The Double Life
by nikkimurray
Summary: Keeping secrets is hard, especially from your future husband . . . A Jenny/Cutter story set after series 2, episode 3. Hope you read and enjoy a bit of old school primeval!
1. The new life

**Story number 10 :D yey! Again, I have no clue where this is going, or if it'll turn out any good, but we shall see. Hope you enjoy! **

**Nikki x**

Chapter 1

Jenny sighed deeply and sunk further down into her plush cream couch, kicking off her four inch heels and taking a minute to relish the blissful relief that spread through her sore feet. It had been one hell of a day. Long, strenuous, and bloody dangerous for the most part. Pressing her fingers into her eyes, she let her thoughts stray back to a few hours previously. When she was younger, she had generally associated theme parks with the joys and fun of being a child, but now all those memories seemed tainted with the image of that Sabre-toothed beast, prowling in the shadows of the bushes, preying on the completely oblivious park-goers. And the that poor girl – Valarie, Jenny reminded herself; the girl had been killed horrifically by a creature, and the least she deserved was to be referred to by her own name. Her death had been the most disturbing sight Jenny had ever seen, and she knew that the image of the girl being ripped apart limp from limp was going to stay with her forever. Immediately, bile started to rise in her throat as she remembered all that blood, and she quickly put the back of her hand to her mouth and straightened up, trying to push it all to the back of her mind.

_Don't think about that,_ she thought to herself firmly for at least the tenth time that day. _Just don't think about it . . ._

Instead, she found herself thinking about that deranged farmer who had been about sixty seconds from blowing her head off and feeding her to his psychotic dogs. Shuddering slightly at the thought of what would have happened if Stephen and the others hadn't turned up when they did, she sniffed to compose herself, immediately squashing the panic that threatened to flare up in her stomach – she was safe now, she reminded herself resolutely. She was home, surrounded by familiar things and comforting feelings. There was nothing to be afraid of now.

As a distraction, Jenny fished in her handbag and pulled out her mobile phone, checking for any messages that might have arrived when she was lost in her own horrific world. To her surprise, a text message bleeped up from Abby. She blinked and re-read the name to check that her tired eyes hadn't made a mistake. It was not that she had never received a message from Abby before, but their contact was mainly confined to work hours – it's not like they had anything in common enough to socialise together outside of the ARC. In fact, it would probably be fair to say that they were as different as two women could ever be. Jenny liked her of course, but she doubted whether any amount of shared near-death experiences could bridge the societal gap between them. The same could probably be said for the rest of the team as well. There was Stephen, who she found very reckless and annoyingly gung-ho about everything. Not exactly horrible to look at she supposed, but he was too much of a pretty boy for her to ever feel an ounce of attraction to him. Then there was Connor, the token computer geek, who was sweet enough, but most of the time, he was just plain irritating.

Absently, she glanced down at the text –

_Hi Jenny, just reminding u that we're all going 2 Cutters 2nite 4 his bday next week. I no its ben a horrible day, but it mite do us sum gud 2 hav a get 2gether. Hope u can make it._

_Abby_

Short, sharp and to the point. The perfect amount of warmth to give the illusion that they were on friendly terms, but with a hint of distance that jumped off the screen, giving the impression that Abby was still on her guard with her. Hardly surprising, Jenny though. After all, she was a senior member of the team, and was probably tarred to the same brush as Lester. The government officials, most likely classed as the enemies in the eyes of the scientists. In no way seen as part of the team, but more like the restrictive, interfering pen pushers that were more concerned with keeping the public in total ignorance of the anomalies than about the rising death toll. Probably half right, Jenny thought to herself, not that she was entirely comfortable with the idea. But it was her job after all.

She re-read the text message again. Cutters birthday – yes, she remembered a small team get together being mentioned a couple of days ago. Not that she had any intention of going. Nick Cutter was not a person she would generally associate with given the choice, and going to his birthday party would be a little to touchy-feely for her comfort threshold. He was a very odd man; stubborn, impetuous, and she suspected slightly suicidal judging by the predicaments he often tangled himself in. Still . . . she couldn't deny, even to herself, that he intrigued her. Not that she spent a lot of time thinking about him – he was only a colleague after all, and a bloody frustrating one at that. But there was something about him that made her uneasy. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

At odd times, she would catch him looking at her, sometimes with a frown on his face, and others with his mouth slightly open as though he was puzzled by her in some way. Which was rich, considering _he_ was the one who had introduced himself to her by raving some garble about a woman called Claudia Brown. If anyone had the right to be puzzled, it was her. But _he_ was the one who was staring. It was bloody unsettling, and made her feel more than a bit uncomfortable. At first, she had dismissed it, reasoning that it was simply a case of him fancying her. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she had been the object of a work colleague's affections. She had thought that her suspicions had been confirmed when he had turned up at her front door after the incident with the prehistoric worms, babbling something insane about her being a different person. And he had left when Mark had turned up at her side, his words unfinished, a sure sign that he was disappointed by the discovery that she was already taken. But now, after working with him for a few months, she knew that attraction was certainly not the case. He didn't fancy her – he _hated_ her. He would avoid any conversation with her, and limited any interaction between the two of them unless it was absolutely necessary. And even then, when he was forced to speak to her, he would never quite look her in the eye, but instead fix his gaze on the floor or off into the distance. Any questions she directed to him were answered by him addressing others, and in the rare instances that they found themselves alone together, he would busy himself with something, or else simply walk away without a word. Not that it bothered her. If he had a problem with her doing her job, then he could go and jump to be quite frank. He had no right to judge her. In fact, he had a bloody cheek. There was no way she was going to go round to his house and force herself on the celebrations where she was certainly not welcome, or indeed wanted. However, she did feel rather touched that Abby had thought to invite her along in the first place. At least _she_ was nice enough to try and include her in the team, and Jenny made a mental note to make more of an effort with her in the future.

Jenny jumped slightly as her house phone rang, wrenching her thoughts away from Nick Cutter. She glanced around, about to heave herself to her feet to answer it, but she couldn't seem to be able to summon the strength to bother moving. So, resting her head back on the couch, she closed her eyes and let the stiff ringing tone wash over her. Eventually, it went to the machine.

_Hi darling, it's me _(Mark's voice said)._ I'm just phoning to let you know I'm working late again tonight . . ._

Jenny snorted to herself, still not bothering to open her eyes. 'Working late.' She knew very well what that meant. Not that she had any proof to back up her suspicions with; more of a niggling doubt that Marks honey-coated words were masking more than an impressive work ethic. Still, she would do what she always did whenever such thoughts crossed her mind – bury her head in the sand, and pretend it wasn't happening. After all, it might just be her own paranoid mind falsifying everything, and she was certainly not the type of woman to allow anyone to see her insecurities, not even her fiancé.

Things hadn't been particularly easy between the two of them since Jenny had joined the ARC. Before, they had been affectionate with each other - passionate even - but the burden of keeping her secret seemed to be taking its toll on their relationship. Jenny tried to act normal and keep a smile plastered to her face, but on days such as today when she had witnessed something no-one should ever have to see, even an expert PR woman such as herself couldn't hide the trama, and the fact that she couldn't even give Mark a reasonable answer when he asked her what was wrong meant it was inevitable that a wedge would be driven between them. She couldn't confide in him, and even if she wasn't under the Official Secrets Act, the chances of him believing her if she did so were pretty slim. So this was their life now. A long string of lies and deceit, thrown together by the odd kiss and cuddle that failed to plaster over the growing cracks in their relationship. They were both being untruthful with each other, she knew that, but she couldn't do a thing about it.

_. . . so don't wait up sweetheart. I love you, and I can't wait to see that beautiful face in the morning._

She smiled to herself as the message ended, marvelling at how he managed to convey so much genuine adoration in his words when he probably had his hot blonde assistant perched on his lap as he spoke.

_Stop it,_ she thought to herself immediately, shaking her head slightly. _You're just being paranoid. He's a hard working man – what's wrong with that? It doesn't necessarily mean he's shagging his secretary . . ._

_Still . . . _another thought piped up, _if he is getting up to all sorts . . . are you just going to sit here, bored and alone, like the besotted wife-to-be? Waiting for him to finish enjoying his 'overtime'?_

"No!" she said to herself aloud, feeling a prickle of fury as she stood up. "No way!"

Mind made up, she stalked off to the kitchen and roughly pulled a vintage bottle of red wine from the wine rack, and before she knew it, she was in the car, on her way to Cutters house.

Anything - even the open hostility that Cutter was sure to lever her way - had to be better than sitting home alone, with only a bottle of wine to accompany the thoughts of what her husband-to-be was probably getting up to.


	2. The unwanted guest

Chapter 2

Cutter sat with his feet up on his coffee table, blankly staring at the peeling wallpaper on the adjacent wall and moodily fingering the edge of a cushion. He could really do without the forthcoming birthday celebration that was being physically forced upon him. He wasn't exactly the partying type of man in general, let alone on a day that he had witness what was potentially the most disturbing thing he was ever likely to see. He squeezed his eyes shut as that image forcibly popped up in his head again, trying to suppress the lump that was rising in his throat. Valarie had been such a beautiful, vibrant young woman. She shouldn't have died. He should have been able to stop it. He should have been able to explain it all to her better. Maybe then she wouldn't have been killed. He had never been the most eloquent speaker in the world of course, but if he could have managed to convey to her that they weren't going to hurt the Sabre-Tooth Cat, then maybe she wouldn't have fought against them. He _should_ have been able to prevent this. It was his job –

A loud knocking at his front door wrenched his thoughts away from Valarie, and brought him back to earth with a bump.

_Great, _he thought to himself glumly as he reluctantly got to his feet. _Just what I bloody need – having to play the host. I should just pretend not to be in . . ._

Slowly, he opened the door to be greeted with Abby and Connor's beaming faces. Stephen was hovering behind them, his forced smile not quite masking the awkwardness between them left over from crossed words earlier that day –

"_How many more Valarie's are there going to be before we just start telling people what's going on?" Stephen yelled, his face livid as he stared at Valarie's shredded body . . ._

"Happy birthday Cutter," Abby smiled brightly, before she sauntered past him brazenly, not waiting for an invite.

"It's not my birthday 'til next week," Cutter pointed out gruffly as he stepped aside to let Connor and Stephen in also.

"Well, for the purposes of the celebrations, it _is_ today," Connor interjected as strolled towards the lounge. "We can't very well paint the town red on a weekday can we?"

"There will be no painting of any town," Cutter said, gesturing down at the couch to indicate they should take a seat. "I told you, I don't want any fuss. Just a quiet drink and an early night."

"Ooh, calm down you party animal," Stephen said sarcastically as he handed Cutter a bottle of whiskey.

"I'll get the glasses shall I?" Abby asked, but she walked off towards the kitchen before Cutter could form an answer.

_God,_ he thought to himself as he accepted another bottle of spirit off Connor with a forced smile, _I hate these things._

"Look, you guys really didn't have to do this," he mumbled awkwardly, hoping that he was politely conveying that he'd rather be alone. "I'd be perfectly fine just letting this birthday pass."

"No way!" Connor exclaimed as he made his way over to the cabinet in the corner. "As if we'd let you not celebrate your birthday!" he added as he began mooching through Cutter's sparse CD collection.

"I'm not really the birthday type of guy," Cutter insisted, feeling himself longing for his bed more and more.

"Well there's a surprise," Abby chimed in as she strode back in, five glasses clutched awkwardly in her hands. "So who wants what to drink?"

"Hang on," Cutter interrupted, frowning at her. "Five glasses? There are only four of us."

"No, there are us five of us, including Jenny," she replied absently as she set the glasses down on the table.

"What?" Cutter spluttered, feeling an unreasonable bubble of panic form in his stomach. "Why – why's she coming?"

Abby straightened up, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Because I invited her of course."

"Why would you do that?" he gaped, earning him confused looks from everyone.

"Um . . . because she's a member of the team isn't she?" Abby answered, looking perplexed at his reaction. "I didn't think it'd be fair to just leave her out - "

"But – but I don't want her here!" Cutter stammered.

"Why not?" Abby asked, frowning at him.

Cutter sighed to himself internally, unable to vocalise the real reasons why having Jenny Lewis in his house would be uncomfortable for him on a myriad of levels. How could he explain that he didn't want _her_ heavily made-up face to be the one he would have in his memory when he looked around his house? How could he explain that he wanted Claudia's face to be the one resonant in his mind instead? Spending any amount of time with that horrible woman was always painful, but having her _here_? In his_ house_? No, he didn't want that. He didn't want her to be here, celebrating his birthday with him when he'd had never got to share such a special day with Claudia. It was too personal . . . too _intimate_. He couldn't avoid her in the ARC, but this was his own private space, and her intrusion certainly wasn't wanted.

"I just don't like her, that's all," he mumbled eventually, fixing his gaze on the floor so that his eyes wouldn't give away his real feelings.

Abby sighed and put her hand on her hip, fixing him with a withering stare. "That's just because you haven't made an effort with her. I'm sure she's very nice under all that PR bravado. We just need to give her the chance."

"I don't _want_ to give her a chance!" he snapped, inwardly wincing at how petulant he sounded.

"Why?" Connor asked, looking rather shocked by Cutter's reaction.

"Because . . ." he trailed off, glancing around at Stephen and finding the fact that he was giving him a rather knowing smile rather unsettling. "Because she's a complete - "

The descriptive profanity he was about to verbalise caught in his throat as the doorbell rang, making his heart sink.

"That'll be her," Abby stated, folding her arms tightly. "And you better be nice to her tonight - "

"Yeah yeah," Cutter grumbled as he unwillingly slouched off to answer it, inwardly praying that it was a Jehovah's Witness, whom he would gladly welcome in with open arms instead Jenny Lewis.

He wrenched the door open with unnecessary aggression to find himself face to face with Jenny, and immediately, his stomach contorted in a way he'd long since associated with her. It wasn't the same pleasant feeling he had enjoyed when he had been with Claudia; more a painful reminder of what he had so nearly had with this woman before she had become what was standing in front of him.

"Hi," Jenny said, breaking the silence first.

He nodded stiffly as a greeting, taking a second to look at her. She was wearing the same thing she had worn for work that day, which struck him as rather odd. It wasn't like he knew her at all, but she seemed like the kind of woman that would change out of work attire for a social function. The only thing different about her appearance was that her hair was down from the conventional bun she usually chose for work, and instead flowed loose and wavy around her face, making her look too much like Claudia for his comfort threshold. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear, obviously feeling uncomfortable that he hadn't said a word yet.

"Happy birthday," she said awkwardly, extending her hand to give him an expensive-looking bottle of red wine.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking it off her and glancing down at the label, more to give himself an excuse not to look at her than actually caring about the 'creamy, fruity taste' he was in store for.

Silence hovered between them for a few painful seconds. Eventually, she cleared her throat again. "So are you going to invite me in?" she asked tentatively.

"Oh," he said stupidly, before stepping aside. "Of course. Sorry. I just wasn't expecting you."

"You think I'd miss you turning a year older?" she smiled as she brushed passed him.

He immediately took in the exotic whiff of her expensive perfume, and to his complete frustration, his heart did a back-flip. If he was honest with himself, this had been the real reason why he hadn't wanted her to come tonight. Because, in some dark recess of his brain that he would never allow himself to explore further, he knew that he wanted her. And it absolutely disgusted him. She wasn't Claudia. He shouldn't feel anything for her. But he did. Despite all the differences between the two women, looks-wise she was identical to Claudia, making it impossible for him to suppress his desire for her. But it was just a physical thing, he reasoned with himself as he gestured for her to join the others in the lounge. He was sure it'd burn itself out given time.

As he followed her towards the living room in silence, he felt his eyes being drawn down involuntarily to her legs, despite his best efforts to keep them averted from her. He couldn't help himself noticing how long and tanned they were, not to mention how the slit in her skirt exposed the creamy skin of her thigh as she walked. He sighed to himself and pressed his fingers into his eyes to stop himself looking at her.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. The tell off

Chapter 3

Stephen felt the atmosphere in the room change as soon as Cutter re-entered with Jenny. Nick's jaw was set and his expression stony, as though he was utterly livid. He shot a glare at Abby, making it clear that he blamed her for what he clearly considered to be distasteful company. Jenny herself looked slightly awkward as she perched on the couch next to Stephen, as though she was regretting her decision to come at all.

"What's your poison Jenny?" Stephen asked as he leaned forward to pour her a drink, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Oh, um . . ." she said politely, casting her eye over the various bottles on the table. "I'll have anything really."

"Give her this," Cutter interjected sternly, plonking down a bottle of expensive red wine that Stephen assumed Jenny had given him as a birthday present. "I'm sure anything else wouldn't be up to her standards."

Everyone looked around at Cutter, taken-aback at how abrupt he was being. Stephen half glanced around at Jenny, wondering if such comments bothered her, but judging by her unreadable expression, it was like water off a ducks back. Perhaps that was the perk of her job – she was well versed at emotional detachment.

Eventually, she turned to Stephen, hitching a surprisingly genuine-looking smile on her face. "Yes, a wine would be lovely thanks," she said warmly, completely disregarding Cutter's catty remark.

Stephen obliged immediately, pouring the magenta liquid into the wine glass and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she smiled as she accepted the drink, immediately taking a rather large gulp.

He returned her smile and took a swig of his own whiskey as he sat back on the couch, although his eyes were drawn to Cutter over the rim of his glass. He noticed that he was giving him daggers as he took a seat himself. Stephen swallowed the fiery liquid and stared back, wondering what on earth he had done wrong now. Surely he couldn't be mad at him for being polite to Jenny? Even though it did feel the tiniest bit like he was fraternising with the enemy whenever he and Jenny spoke, it's not like they were in high school anymore. Cutter couldn't just decide to be horrid to someone, and expect the rest of the team to copy. Besides that, Stephen actually found that he liked Jenny. She was very bossy of course, and she represented the Government aspect of the anomaly project which should make her the enemy in its own right. But she was also clever, brave, stubborn, beautiful . . . all the qualities he liked in a woman. His thoughts involuntarily strayed back to Helen, and for the first time, he noticed how much alike she and Jenny actually were, minus the formers sociopathic tendencies. Definitely his type of woman. Not that he would ever do anything about it of course. Not only was Jenny engaged, but the more he thought about it, the more he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Cutter's open hostility towards the woman was merely a front for something else. It wasn't as if Stephen had ever really seen how Cutter acted when he had feelings for a woman – after all, when they had met, it wasn't long after that he was morning the 'loss' of Helen, and after that, he had shown zero interest in any one else. But the way he was behaving towards Jenny . . . something wasn't right. He'd never seen Cutter be this rude to anyone before, even with people whom he had hated with a passion. Perhaps it was just his unpractised way of showing attraction? Either way, Stephen got the distinct impression that this woman was completely out of bounds to himself, and not just because she was about to be married.

"Well . . ." Abby began, clapping her hands together, obviously not enjoying the tense atmosphere anymore than Stephen was. "This is nice . . . us all being together. We should do this more often."

Everyone shot her a disbelieving look. She chuckled uncomfortable, before adding to Connor in an undertone, "For goodness sake, go and put some music on or something."

* * *

Cutter sat in a sulky silence, staring blankly into his recently re-filled whiskey glass as the rest of the team made casual conversation around him. Abby and Connor kept trying to draw him into the discussion, but his replies were short and abrupt, making it perfectly clear that he wanted no part of a conversation with _her_. Jenny herself looked extremely uncomfortable, making him feel a twinge of guilt that he immediately squashed – she should never have come here in the first place. She had to know that he didn't like being around her surely? Why would she choose to come to his birthday party over the myriad of other things she probably had lined up with her _fiancé_ . . .?

As time slowly ticked on, Cutter found that he was unable to keep his eyes trained on the floor, but instead his gaze kept creeping up to her, as though he had no control over his line of vision. Every movement she made inarguably fascinated him, whether it was the way she flicked her hair from her face, or stroked the steam of her wine glass. Everything about her was so familiar and yet so strangely new, and for what felt like the hundredth time, he found himself marvelling that he had in fact kissed those lips before, despite the fact that she would never ever know about it. It bloody hurt him, making him feel incredibly bitter and unreasonably angry at her. _How could she not remember?_

"So how did your fiancé propose to you then?" Abby asked her in polite curiosity as she admired the large engagement ring sitting on Jenny's slim finger.

Jenny laughed slightly, as though the memory was a fond one. "Mark literally looked over at me whilst I was reading in bed, and said - 'so do you want to get married or something?'"

"No way," Abby grimaced with a chuckle.

"Yes, I thought I'd misheard him at first."

A familiar pulse of jealousy flooded Cutters stomach at the mention of her fiancé, and he snorted loudly with cold amusement, not able to contain himself.

Again, everyone glanced around at him.

"You know what, I think it's about time that I get going," Jenny said eventually, straightening up.

"No, don't," Stephen said quickly, shooting a glare over at Cutter.

"No, really – it's fine," she said in a hollow voice, setting her half empty glass of wine down. "I need to go anyway."

"Well at least finish your drink," Stephen suggested.

"Cutter – could I talk to you for a moment?" Abby said sharply, her eyes narrowed as she got to her feet. "In private?" she added in a tone that clearly implied there was no negotiation in the matter.

Cutter nodded sombrely, and avoided making eye contact with anyone else as he followed her out into the kitchen, feeling that he was about to receive well-deserved telling off. And sure enough –

"What the hell are you playing at?" she snapped, turning and leaning against his fridge, crossing her arms tightly.

"What?" he mumbled, aware that he was being extremely insolent.

"You know 'what'!" she exclaimed, looking aghast. "Why are you being so horrible to Jenny? She's come round here to try and be nice, and you're being so rude!"

"Well it's not my fault she hasn't got the message that she's not welcome," he said with a sniff.

"What has she ever done to you?" Abby asked, her eyes searching his face. "Why do you hate her so much?"

"I don't _hate_ her . . ."

"Well you're doing a very good impression of it!" she interrupted hotly. "You're hurting her feelings - "

"Oh please! She's in PR, she doesn't have any feelings - "

"And you're making us _all_ feel uncomfortable," she continued, ignoring his below-the-belt remark. "Now will you stop spitting the dummy out, go back in there, and be at least mildly polite to her?

"But - "

"_Please_ Cutter," she begged, her eyes wide and pleading. "I was really looking forward to tonight. It's not often we get to all relax and have a drink. And call me selfish, but I can't enjoy myself if you keep verbally abusing the woman! So _please_ just stop it, and start being nice to her."

He sighed heavily, and a reluctant twinge of shame caused him to hang his head slightly. He knew he was being a complete bastard, and that he was ruining everyone's night – but no one understood . . . he couldn't be around that woman without either lashing out at her, or else flat out ignoring her. It was too painful. The reasonable part of his brain knew that none of this was Jenny's fault – all she had done was get engaged to a man she loved and got a new job, and here he was, some random lunatic, making her life hell. She didn't deserve this – he knew that.

"All right," he mumbled eventually, unable to meet Abby in the eye. "Okay, I'll - I'll try and make more of an effort with her."

"Thank you," she said curtly, giving him a stern look before gesturing behind him. "After you then."

With another sigh, he turned and trotted off obediently, feeling like he was a naughty school boy being sent to apologise to a class mate for calling them a name. When he walked back into the lounge, he saw that Jenny had her bag on her lap, as though she was getting ready to leave, but she had her wine back in her hand, obviously having been convinced by Stephen to finish her drink before taking off. Not feeling particularly eager about making a public apology to the woman, and quite frankly doubting his ability to be able to vocalise it anyway, he marched over and picked up the bottle of wine from the table. She was in deep conversation with Stephen, and so didn't notice his approach until he closed his hand around her own, and pulled her wine glass towards himself. She looked around, surprised, and watched with narrowed eyes as he topped her drink up.

"Stay," he said simply, his eyes reluctantly creeping up to meet hers, noticing how deeply brown they were.

She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly implying that she didn't buy his fumble of an apology for one second.

"Just ignore me being grumpy," he continued, letting go of her hand and immediately missing the warmth of her touch. "Birthdays aren't exactly my favourite time of the year."

She laughed slightly and looked away, clearly wanting to tell him to get lost, although when she glanced back, her eyes were slightly warmer. "Okay," she said eventually, offering him a weak smile, which he found himself able to return.

"Okay," he nodded, putting the bottle of wine back down at the table.

"Well now that we're all friends again . . ." Connor interjected from behind them, causing them to all look around at him questioningly. To Cutter's complete horror, he saw that he was holding up two slightly battered-looking microphones that had been long since forgotten about in the bottom of the cabinet. "Who's up for some karaoke?" he asked hopefully, his face beaming with excitement.

"No," Cutter and Jenny said in unison.


	4. Drunken times and merriment

Chapter 4

"If you had to choose between taking on a Future predator and kissing Lester, which one would you go for?" Connor slurred over to Stephen, slopping a bit of his drink over the table they had all moved over to a while ago.

"Future Predator. No question!" Stephen replied, his eyes not quite focused as he took another gulp of his drink.

Once Cutter had stopped behaving as immature as a five-year-old, it had actually become a rather pleasant evening in his opinion. The drink flowed, as did the conversation, and somehow (and Cutter couldn't quite remember how, now that he came to think about it), they had started playing 'Truth', probably on Connor's suggestion.

"Cutter . . ." Stephen continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "If you had to pick one of us to kiss right now, who would it be?"

Cutter leant his elbow on the table to allow his hand to support his slightly swaying head, and considered the question for a second. He knew what his honest answer would be of course, and when he glanced around at Jenny next to him, she was looking at him with a small smile, as though she knew what his reply was going to be also.

"Well . . ." he began in an uneven voice, unable to drag his gaze away from her. "I suppose if I'm being forced to pick out of a bad bunch . . . based on sex and age, it would have to be the woman on my left."

Jenny let out a cackle-like laugh. "In your dreams Cutter!"

"I certainly hope so," he replied with a smile, probably a little too brazenly.

"I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last person on the _planet_," she informed him, leaning her elbows on the table to stop herself swaying.

Stephen roared with laughter, slapping his hand down on the table. "Ouch! She's got you there mate!"

"Very nice - and on my birthday too," Cutter sighed with mock-disappointment, avoiding showing that he was, in fact, disappointed by her little admission.

"It's not your birthday until next week, remember?" she pointed out with a sweet smile.

"Well I'll expect my kiss then shall I?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh certainly," she nodded, her voice practically sagging with sarcasm.

"Okay my turn," Abby interjected as she poured herself another generous helping of white wine. "Jenny," she slurred, fixing her with a drunken stare. "If you had to choose between having kids and getting married, which one would you pick? If you could only have one for the rest of your life?"

"Well, I'd pick getting married obviously," Jenny replied immediately, clearly not having to really think about the question that hard.

"You don't want kids?" Connor asked, sounding surprised.

"Not even a little bit," Jenny qualified as she reached over and picked up the bottle of wine.

"I reckon that'll change when you get married," Abby nodded wisely before her elbow slide clean off the table, causing her to jolt.

"Well unless they've changed the rules, if you want kids, you have to be having sex," Jenny answered, completely out-of-the-blue.

Connor, who was in the middle of taking a sip of his beer, actually gagged on his drink and put his hand over his mouth, coughing and spluttering loudly. Cutter became immediately more interested in the conversation, and straightened up abruptly, his ears pricking.

"What . . . you mean you don't . . .?" Abby gaped.

"No," Jenny shrugged, topping up her glass. "Barely since I joined the ARC anyway."

"Why?" Stephen asked in disbelief.

She shrugged again, looking slightly uncomfortable as she raised her drink to her lips. "I just can't seem to switch off anymore, that's all. It's hard to get in the mood when all you can think about it jaws and blood and death. Especially with someone who hasn't got a clue about it all."

"You could tell him?" Abby suggested hopefully. "Try and explain - "

"Oh, and wouldn't that be a conversation?" Jenny laughed sarcastically. "'Darling, guess what I did today . . .'"

"I see your point," Abby conceded, leaning back in her chair. "But it's been like two months! You should just stop thinking about it, and just do it!"

"Oh, the romance!" Jenny laughed, her cheeks looking slightly flushed. "Let me know when any of you start getting lucky, and then tell me if it's that easy."

Stephen chuckled, setting his half-empty glass down on the table. "And who says I'm not getting any?"

"Well are you?" Connor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well . . . no," Stephen admitted with a shrug, before downing the rest of his drink. "But the night is young," he added with a suggestive nod at both Abby and Jenny, who both tutted and rolled their eyes.

* * *

Jenny felt extremely light-headed, and so she was slightly relieved when the party started winding down. Eventually, Stephen suggested that they all phone a taxi, which was met with a general drunken murmur of agreement. However, when he tried to get in touch with the cab company, he found that it kept ringing out every time.

"They'll be busy this time on a Friday night," Abby informed them wisely.

"Well, we could always walk?" Stephen suggested as he hung up the phone. "It wouldn't take that long."

"For you lot maybe!" Jenny scoffed, wishing that she couldn't see two of him. "I live ages away, and in the completely opposite direction."

"Well, I could walk you home?" Stephen offered politely, but before Jenny could graciously turn down his generous proposal –

"No," Cutter interjected firmly.

Jenny looked around at him questioningly, and was slightly taken aback to see that he was giving Stephen a very stern look, as though warning him off something. When he noticed that she was looking at him, he cleared his throat and glanced away, all of a sudden seeming very interested in a picture on the wall. "What I mean is I'll make sure she gets home okay. We'll just keep ringing the cab firm. They're bound to answer eventually."

"Well, I'm walking," Stephen said, stretching his arms to the side slightly, puffing out his chest as he did so. "The fresh air might wake me up a bit. Abby? Connor?"

"You think I'd take _him_ in a taxi?" Abby said, her voice shaking with humour as she pointed over to Connor, who had his pale face in his cupped hands, groaning every now and then. "He'd probably end up being sick in the back of it. I'd rather force him to walk a dozen blocks. It might sober him up."

"Good plan," Cutter nodded, clearly suppressing a laugh as he glanced over at a thoroughly drunken Connor.

* * *

Their departure took a rather long time with the five of them crammed in Cutter's narrow hallway, what with all the drunken embraces and slurred well wishes. Eventually, Cutter managed to push a heavily staggering Connor out of the porch, and closed the door behind him with a sigh. Jenny leaned back on the wall next to him, running her hand over her forehead, looking relieved to have her personal space back.

"Now do you see why I don't invite them round more often?" Cutter asked her, amused as he watched her slip sideways into the adjoining wall.

"I think I've drank too much," she stated as she hoisted herself back up.

"No . . ." he teased. "What on earth makes you say that?"

"Hmm . . . well the fact that I can barely stay vertical seems to suggest it," she replied, clearly not picking up on his sarcasm as she straightened up firmly and walked back towards the living room. "Where did Stephen put your house phone?" she added.

He followed her back in and saw that she was tossing cushions aside haphazardly, clearly rooting for the cordless that just so happened to be sitting right next to her on the table.

"Oh for goodness sake woman, just sit down," he grumbled, putting his hand on her hip as he reached forward to scoop up the phone. "You're bloody useless in this state."

"Well you're the one who got me in this state!" she bit back, although she sank onto the couch with a relieved look on her face. "You haven't exactly drank not . . . hang on . . . reverse the last two words . . ."

Rolling his eyes, Cutter dialling the number of the cab firm and took a seat next to her, holding the phone up to his ear. He smiled to himself as she saw her recline backwards and kick off her heels, curling her feet up underneath her.

"Make yourself comfortable why don't you," he smirked, the constant ringing tone becoming a repetitive sound track in his ear.

"I always do," she smiled, running her fingers back through her wavy hair. "So I take it you're not offering me another drink then?"

He laughed cruelly as he hung up the phone, immediately pressing re-dial. "You're not drinking anymore," he protested, unable to suppress the amusement in his voice.

"And why not?" she asked, turning those big eyes on him that he had often watched her use on the unsuspecting male witnesses they came across.

"Because if you do, I'll have to carry you home unconscious," he pointed out, glancing back at the phone in his hand. "I'm still not getting through," he added, throwing the cordless on the couch in frustration.

"Well, just stop ringing for a bit and then try again," she advised, shuffling herself so that she could rest her chin on her propped up palm.

"And let me guess – in the meantime, we can have another drink?" he deduced.

"That worked out pretty convenient didn't it?" she said, her red lips quirked upwards into a suggestive smile.

Cutter sighed purposefully, although he was fully aware that inwardly, he was rather glad that she wasn't going home straight away. He knew that he shouldn't be enjoying her company this much . . . he _really_ shouldn't . . . but whether because of the alcohol or her generally close proximity, he couldn't seem to mask his feelings as well as he usually did. He couldn't seem to muster up the energy to keep that brick wall erected between them.

"You can have _one_ more drink," he conceded eventually, getting to his feet to go and fetch the wine.

"Oh thank you!" she shouted after him, her voice brittle with sarcasm. "I haven't needed permission to have a drink since I was sixteen."

"Well you didn't know me when you were sixteen did you?" he replied cleverly as he returned, drinks in hand.

He gave her one, which she accepted with a surprisingly steady hand. "Speaking of which . . ." she said cryptically as she took a rather large sip, ". . . how old are you turning next week anyway?"

"You can't ask me that," he pointed out as he sunk down next to her again. "It's customary not to ask people how old they are after a certain age."

"I thought you might be drunk enough to tell me," she sighed in disappointment.

"It's not like you'd ever tell me how old you are," he guessed.

"I'm twenty-eight," she replied with a smug smile. "So now you have to tell me."

He laughed at her admittance, which forcefully reminded him of the other world, when the paramedic had asked Claudia her age after she was knocked unconscious by the Pterosaur . . .

"_I have no intention of telling you," she snapped, her pale cheeks flushing with embarrassment._

With Jenny however, it was clear that she didn't give a toss about people knowing her age. Claudia had been dignified. Lady-like even. But not Jenny Lewis. With her it was 'say the bitter truth, and if people don't like it, stuff them'. Not a modest bone in her body. Typical.

"So are you going to tell me then, or are you going to leave me in suspense?" she added, bursting his though bubble.

"Well, put it this way," he said mysteriously, leaning forward and resting his arm on the back of the couch. "I'm _much_ too old for you."

She sniggered, and looked around at him, her eyes slightly glazed as they focused on him. "I didn't say I was asking for me, did I?"

"Well, why else would you be so interested?" he asked, his arm stiffened in anticipation for her answer. Silly really, considering she had a dream-boat of a fiancé waiting for her at home. But still . . . he couldn't help but get the feeling that she was flirting with him.

She seemed to hesitate for a second, as though she was considering saying something, but for unkown reasons was rather reluctant to do so. Eventually, it seemed, curiosity won out. "Can I ask you something?" she said tentatively, tracing circles around the rim of her wine glass with her slender finger.

"Is there any way I could stop you?" he replied sarcastically as he daringly shuffled a tiny bit closer to her.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she asked bluntly, taking him back – he certainly hadn't expected her to bring that up.

"I – I don't hate you . . ." he stumbled to say.

"Oh come on," she said, her voice heavy with disbelief. "Before today, you've been a complete nightmare."

"I know," he conceded, focusing his gaze on the coffee table, unable to look her in the face as he spoke. "But in fairness, you don't make it easy to like you."

"I've never asked you to like me," she sniffed, her eyes still fixed on the half empty glass in her hands. "But surely being civil wasn't too much to ask, was it?"

"No," he admitted, feeling the burn of shame prick at him. "But sometimes . . . well . . . sometimes I don't find it easy to be around you . . ."

"Why?" she pushed, looking around at him for the first time in a while.

"Because . . ." he struggled to reply. What on earth could he say? That every time he looked at her, he saw in her the woman that he was in love with? That every time let his guard down, he could feel himself falling for her more and more? That every time he remembered that she was taken, it felt like he had lost her all over again? That he felt like he and he alone had the rights to her because he was the only one who knew the truth about her past? "Because you . . . you remind me of someone," he landed on eventually, hoping that she wouldn't probe any further.

"Claudia you mean?" she asked, her tone displaying a definite edge of curiosity. "Well . . . is she your ex or something? Did it end badly - is that why you can barely look at me most of the time?"

He sighed deeply, and pressed his fingers into his eyes in frustration. He did _not_ want to be talking about this, least of all with her.

"I think I'm going to try and phone you a taxi again," he said abruptly, disengaging his arm from around her and reaching for the phone, getting to his feet again.

"Oh . . . okay . . ." she said, sounding slightly puzzled by his swift change in mood.

He walked off into the hall, phone to his ear, his mind buzzing with everything that had happened tonight. He decided point blank that he should never let himself get this close to her again. It was a bad idea. The more time he spent with her, the more she and Claudia began to get jumbled in his mind, and it was confusing him. Claudia was the woman he fell in love with – this other woman was merely a genetic copy with an attitude problem. He shouldn't allow himself to get to know her – it wasn't right. He didn't want to feel anything for her.

He wouldn't _allow_ himself to feel anything for her.

Ever.


	5. Crossing the line

**Warning: slightly adult content ahead! It is rated 'T' for a reason :p**

Chapter 5

As Cutter paced the hall impatiently, he eventually got through to the taxi operator, who informed him that while she could order him a taxi, she was unable to predict when it arrive, as they were extremely busy.

Great, he thought to himself as he hung up the phone. Just what he needed - more time alone with Jenny Lewis.

"All booked," he informed Jenny in a false cheery voice as he walked back into the living room.

"Great," she said absently as she sat up, slipping her feet into her shoes. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said curtly, flinging the phone down on the table. "They said it might be a while though. Friday's a busy night apparently."

"Oh," she said with surprise, looking up at him awkwardly. "Right."

"Don't worry – I'm sure you'll be tucked up in bed soon enough," he said, unable to keep the distinct bitter tone out of his voice as his words formed unwanted images in his mind.

"Yes, I'm sure I will be," she replied shortly as she stood up, but she immediately staggered.

Cutter quickly grabbed her waist to steady her. "Watch yourself," he said gruffly, holding her in place.

"Sorry . . . I just got up too fast . . ." she murmured, her hand on her head, and her eyes squeezed shut – it was clear that her vision was swimming.

"Oh yeah, that'll be it," he retorted sarcastically. "Nothing to do with the fact that you've drunk your own weight in wine tonight of course . . ."

"Oh hush," she laughed, steadying herself by grabbing his arms tightly. "You're such a nag."

"No – I'm just observant," he remarked, aware that he was rather enjoying having a legitimate excuse to hold her, and hating himself for it.

"Nick?" she said in a curious voice, looking up at him with slightly smudged eyes.

"Hmm?"

She raised her chin to meet his, making the distance between them significantly smaller. "You didn't want Stephen to take me home, did you?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated slightly, again caught off guard by her impeccable astuteness. "No," he conceded eventually.

"Why?" she whispered, tilting her head to the side questioningly.

"I . . ." he began, but stopped himself as his brain alerted him that he should be very careful about how he phrased it without sounding like a jealous prat. "He'd had a lot to drink," he said simply, deciding in a split second to tell some semblance of the truth.

"And?" she said, raising a questioning eyebrow. "So have I."

"Exactly," he retorted immediately, unable to stop himself looking into her eyes again.

"Why, what were you afraid was going to happen?" she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing," he lied. "It's just that . . ."

"Yes?" she prompted, her intense gaze drawing the truth from his reluctant lips.

"I just get the feeling that he . . ." he tried again, the idea flickering at the edge of his mind, making his pulse race with jealousy.

"That he what?" she asked, her expression remaining innocent, although by the twinkle in her eye, she knew exactly what he was implying.

"That he . . ." he said hopelessly, unsure of exactly how to put it. "You're just his type of woman that's all," he landed on eventually.

"Is that so?" she laughed slightly. "And what about you? Am I your type of woman?"

He smiled at her, aware that she was teasing him. "Not even a little bit," he smirked.

She shot him a mock-scandalised look, still swaying slightly in his arms.

"So . . . am I going to get my birthday kiss then?" Cutter asked before he could contain himself, the alcohol in his blood stream making him feel unusually brazen.

She paused for a minute, inhaling slowly as she looked him up and down. "But like I said, it's not your birthday until next week."

"But we won't be alone in my house next week," he pointed out, leaning his palm flat on the wall beside him to steady himself.

If he was honest, he was expecting a well-deserved slap off her. She was about to be married after all, and before today, he had never shown even an ounce of respect towards her. But instead of inflicting pain on him, she smiled, holding his gaze a little too long. Then, to his complete surprise, she stepped forward further, and rested her hand gently on his chest. His heart pounded wildly as he felt her move closer; so close in fact that he could feel her cool breath brushing against his cheek. Then, as their lips met slowly and cautiously, his mind was completely wiped blank. He forgot that she was his work colleague. He forgot that she was engaged. He forgot that she wasn't Claudia. He could taste the sweet resonance of wine on her tongue, intoxicating him further, and for those few wonderful moments, all he cared about was making sure there was as little distance between them as possible. His hands travelled up her back, pulling her against him. She made no attempt to regain any distance; in fact, he felt her wrap one arm around his neck, the other hand still pressed against his pounding heart. He was lost . . . one hundred percent caught by her skilled lips and passionate embrace . . .

For a second, he felt her pull away, and disappointment flooded the pit of his stomach as he realised that she had probably come to her senses. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when she roughly pushed him so that he staggered backwards, and fell onto the couch. Holding his gaze with her magnetic eyes, she sat over his lap, her breaths coming in short sharp pants. He himself was utterly breathless as he ran his hands up her body for the first time, making sure that every curve was etched in his memory. Her lips began tracing an urgent line down his neck, distracting him as her hands worked on his belt buckle. He explored the soft skin of her back under her blouse, gently following her the curvature of her spine upwards. As her lips found his again, she moved against his crotch unexpectedly, although purposely, catching him off guard, causing him to moan loudly into her mouth. As euphoria gripped him, he wrapped his arms around her completely, pulling her closer to him, the aching need to feel more of her overwhelming, and he felt her gasp slightly, clearly surprised. She finally succeeded in pulling off his belt, and frantically started working on undoing the buttons of his jeans. The warm glow of anticipation flowed through him, and his hands urgently groped at her thighs, pulling her skirt upwards –

_BEEP BEEP!_

They both broke apart, reluctantly wrenched back into harsh reality, panting heavily in unison. A blinding light flashed through the curtains, clearly indicating that the taxi was waiting for her outside.

"Just ignore it," he breathed, holding her hips tightly, keeping her pulled against him hard.

For a second, it looking like she was about to agree, as she leaned forward to kiss him again, but before he could so much as part his lips –

_BEEP BEEP!_

She pulled away again and rested her forehead on his. "I have to go," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Don't," he begged quietly. "Please. Stay."

She straightened up, biting her smudged lip, looking incredibly torn between her desire and her common sense. Eventually, she sighed. "I can't," she said in a resigned tone.

Before he could even register the loss of her pressure against him, she was on her feet, frantically straightening out her crinkled skirt.

"Jenny - " he began as he got to his feet, buttoning up his jeans again, but she shook her head, forcing him into silence.

"I have to go!" she snapped, snatching up her bag from the table. "Thank you for a lovely night. I'll see you on Monday."

"But Jenny - " he tried again, wanting to protest that the needed to talk about what had just happened, but again, she cut him off.

"Goodbye Nick," she stated curtly, before she turned and sauntered off, her heels clicking loudly on his floor.

Completely and utterly stunned, Cutter stood frozen for a few seconds, still gawping after her, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He winced as his front door slammed shut, bringing him back to the real world, and immediately, an intense mixture of shame and self-loathing washed over him. Running his hands over his tired face and feeling a hundred percent sober, he sunk back onto the couch, his mind working overtime. He had just crossed a line. He had just nearly slept with somebody else's fiancée! His _colleague_! And worse still, when he shut his eyes in frustration, Claudia's beautiful face shone radiant in his mind, making his stomach clench with numbing guilt. He felt as though he had cheated on her. As though every wonderful memory of her was blurred in with the images of Jenny. Now, instead of Claudia's lips being the ones that stuck out clearly in his mind, it was Jenny's kisses that he could still feel on his mouth . . . Jenny's hands that were tugging on his pants . . . Jenny's soft thighs that he had uncovered eagerly . . .

He was absolutely disgusted in himself.


	6. Caught out

Chapter 6

Jenny told the taxi driver to drop her off about six blocks away from her house, despite the fact that rain had started lashing down hard since she had left Cutter's. She didn't care. She needed to get out of the confines of the cab and have some time to think and clear her head. She was drenched through in seconds of course, her blouse almost opaque and sticking to her uncomfortably, but her thoughts were far away from her physical appearance at that moment.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she exclaimed to herself when the taxi had disappeared around the corner, turning and kicking a wheelie bin in her frustration, and cursing again when a sharp pain shot through her foot.

What the _hell_ had just happened? She had just nearly . . . and with _Cutter_! Oh God! What had she done? And _why_? She didn't even fancy him! Unless . . .

Did she . . .?

_Well you seemed to be pretty into him when you were ripping his off belt, _a little voice in her head chimed in treacherously. _And if the taxi wouldn't have turned up when it did . . ._

"Damn it!" she shouted aloud, running her hands back through her saturated hair.

No, no, no . . . she refused to accept the fact that she was attracted to Nick Cutter of all people. Yes, she supposed he was good-looking if you liked that sort of thing, but the rugged and slightly tortured academic type didn't exactly get her going . . .

_Well that's not what it looked like ten minutes ago, _that annoying voice whispered again. _It's not like you straddle any other work colleagues . . ._

Shut up, she told herself firmly as she straightened up, taking a deep, calming breath. She loved Mark. She _did_. And he was young, beautiful, successful, rich . . . everything she could ever want in a husband. So they were going through a rough patch – big deal! That didn't give her the right to nearly rip her colleague's pants off! A horrific bolt of guilt shot through her, and she slapped her hand to her forehead, wincing with humility. She shouldn't have let things go that far with Cutter – no, in fact she should have never gone to his party in the first place. She didn't even like him. In fact, he bugged the hell out of her! What was she playing at?

She began the short walk back to her house, letting the freezing cold rain cascade down her skin, washing away all the frustration. So what if she'd kissed Cutter? She had been drunk after all, and besides, it's not like they'd took things much further. Well, not really. And the more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to understand exactly why she'd done it – her intoxicated brain had reasoned that Nick understood her more than Mark, which she supposed was true on some level. With Cutter, there was no pretence needed, no expectations – he understood what she had to go through everyday working at the ARC because he was going through it too. There were no lies standing between them, and no need for her to keep a false smile plastered on her face. Is it any wonder that a part of her reasoned that being with Cutter was just the release that she needed?

_Oh God!_ she thought to herself as she hurried up the steps of her house. _How the hell am I going to look Cutter in the eye on Monday? After what we nearly did . . ._

Cringing, she let herself in, and quietly crept into her hallway, slowly pushing the door shut behind her. She held her breath as she stepped on that supremely irritating creaky floorboard, desperate not to wake up Mark; he was sure to go mental at her for getting home at – she raised her wrist in front of her face, squinting to see her watch in the semi-darkness – four am!

Crap, crap, crap!

As quietly as humanly possible, she slipped her shoes off and picked them up so her heels didn't make unnecessary noise on the floorboards. She tip-toed unsteadily towards the staircase, pushing her dripping wet hair from her face –

"Where have you been Jen?" Mark's cold voice issued out from the living room doorway.

Swearing in shock, she dropped her heels as she span round, her heart jumping up to her throat. Mark was leaning against the doorframe, and even in the lack of light and with her slightly blurred vision, she could still make out his tightly folded arms and stern features.

"Sweetheart, you scared me," she stated shakily, clutching her chest as her heart started back up again.

"I said – where have you been?" he asked in the same creepy hollow voice.

She took a second to collect herself and regulate her breathing before replying. "Out," she stated simply, her sluggish mind trying and failing to think of a better excuse.

"Out?" he repeated, his voice wavering with anger. "Jen - it's four o' clock in the bastard morning!" he exploded, slamming his hand down on the light switch aggressively. She winced as the unexpected light blinded her eyes, and heard Mark gasp as if from a great distance away. "What the _hell _happened to you?" he demanded, sounding completely aghast.

"Nothing," she said quickly, ensuring that she raised her head to look him in the eye, knowing that her inability to do so may indicate a lie.

"Nothing?" he spluttered, his voice now so high pitched that it was likely only dogs would be able to hear him soon. "_Nothing_? Look at the state of you! You look like you've been attacked!"

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous," she scoffed, running her hand through her still-damp hair self-consciously.

"_I'm_ being ridiculous?" he exclaimed loudly. "I'm not the one who's rolled in at four in the morning looking like I've been roughed up! Where the hell have you been?"

"With some friends," she replied, desperately trying to keep her voice steady, but despite her best efforts, her words still came out slightly slurred.

"Are – are you drunk?" he gaped, his eyes wide with disbelief as they travelled all over her.

"No!" she protested immediately, lying through her teeth.

"Yes you are!" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. "I've been worried sick about you for hours, your mobiles off . . . I was beginning to think you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere! Now for the last time – where have you been?"

"OUT!" she screamed, losing her temper completely under the pressure of the verbal grilling.

He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes, clearly surprised by her unexpected outburst; she usually ensured that she kept her cool as far as he was concerned. They stared at each other for a second, both breathing angrily.

"Okay," he said eventually in a forced-calm voice. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to sleep in the spare room, and you're going to go to bed and sober up – I'm not talking to you when you're in this mess. We'll have this out tomorrow."

"Can't wait," Jenny mumbled, crossing her arms defiantly and turning to walk up the stairs.

"And Jen?" he added in a much stronger voice.

She stopped and looked around at him, aware that she was swaying slightly, but seemingly unable to stop herself from doing so.

"I expect this sort of behaviour from a teenager, not my wife-to-be," he stated drily. "So don't you _ever_ let me see you in this state again. Understood?"

"Don't you _dare _tell me what to do," she snapped, narrowing her eyes in loathing. "I'm a grown woman Mark. I go where I want, when I want - "

"I'm not messing around Jenny!" he yelled, his cheeks flushed with fury. "I won't have you running round the city until all hours like a common tart!"

She stared at him for a moment, completely and utterly livid by his nerve. Yes, he was probably right about one thing – she should have called and told him where she was and what time she'd be back. She usually did when she was on a night out after all. But it's not like he ever extended the same courtesy to her when he was out with 'the lads'. She was about to snap back, pointing out that where she went and who she was with was none of his business, but before she could form an argument, the burning guilt of what she and Cutter had been up to not so long ago surfaced again, drowning any anger she had in a sea of shame, forcing her to hold her tongue.

"Am I making myself perfectly clear?" he pushed in a brittle tone.

She blinked and straightened up, looked him up and down. "Crystal," she replied with all the contempt she could muster, before continuing her ascent up the stairs, eager to get to bed and forget this horrid night ever happened.


	7. Haunting dreams

**Short one today, but I'm mad busy sorry! Bloody labs :/ Anyway, hope you enjoy. Thank you so much to all those who have reviewed :D**

Chapter 7

Jenny awoke with a muffled cry, her breaths panting and erratic, and her eyes wide and scanning the familiar yet strange room around her, unable to fathom where on earth she was. It was only when she noticed that Mark was sound asleep with his back to her, breathing heavily, that she realised that she was in her bedroom. Relaxing slightly, she sighed in frustration and touched her trembling hand to her slightly overheated forehead, noting how clammy her usually cool skin was. She squeezed her eyes shut, annoyed at herself that yet again, she had allowed _him_ to be the one and only focus of her dream. She had had a firm talk with herself before she had gone to sleep that night as Mark snored quietly beside her – she would not allow her dreams to drift to Nick Cutter, nor the possibilities of the now infamous Friday night, and what would have happened if that bloody taxi hadn't had turned up when it did. But to her complete dismay, it seemed that dream-Nick had no intention of bowing out, and true to form, almost as soon as she had closed her eyes that night, an intense and feverishly erotic fantasy had ensued, as though it had been forming slowly in her mind all day and was waiting to be played in the safety of her subconscious. It had seemed so real . . . so sensual . . . so wonderfully evocative that it had actually been difficult to distinguish the fantasy from her reality upon waking.

She glanced around at Mark again; the usual niggle of guilt eating away at her. He didn't deserve this. Here he was, sleeping innocently, completely oblivious to the fact that his fiancée was having an extremely vivid sexual fantasy about someone else right next to him. But that wasn't the worse part of it all – no that was the shameful pulse of disappointment that flooded her stomach as soon as she realised that her dream rendezvous with Cutter _wasn't_ real. It was a complete anti-climax that when she woke, she was not looking into the startling blue depths of Nick Cutter's eyes; that instead, she found herself staring at the dark empty void of her room with Mark next to her, his rhythmic breathing becoming slowly but surely more suffocating to her as the days wore on, and the lucid dreams getting more and more steamy in correlation.

Jenny glanced around at the luminous screen of her alarm clock before shutting her eyes again, groaning quietly in frustration. It was three fifteen on Monday morning – in less than six hours, she would find herself face to face with the supremely real version of Cutter. Her cheeks burned as she considered how awkward their first meeting since the 'incident' would be, and she immediately made a mental memo to try and avoid him for as long as she could manage. Not that that plan would be likely to hold out long considering they worked together every day. Vaguely, she wondered how he would be likely to play it when they did eventually run into each other; all she knew for certain was that the reception she was likely to get off him wouldn't be nearly as warm as his dream counterpart. She had lead him on . . . probably hurt and humiliated him . . . if she was honest, after the way she had behaved, she'd be lucky to get any more than a few nods and grunts off him. He was sure to be pissed at her, either for kissing him in the first place, or else bailing on him without so much as a fumbled apology. Thinking about it, she really didn't expect him to be anything more than cold and officious with her, and she reasoned that she'd probably do the same with him, and match his stoniness with a cool façade of her own. Not that she particularly wanted to be off whth him - in fact, it was quite the opposite - but she was desperate to conceal what was rapidly becoming her most closely guarded secret. The fact of the matter was that, despite the fact she didn't even like him . . . despite the fact that he drove her up the wall most of the time . . . there was some deep treacherous part of her actually wished that they had never been interrupted back on that haunting night. She would never ever admit that to him of course. What was the point? She was taken, and even if she wanted out of her engagement, it was too late now. She and Mark had bought a house, the wedding was all planned and paid for, and they had created a life together. She was in too deep to escape now. She had made a decision, and now she was expected to live with it. That's what most women did in their relationships anyway, Jenny supposed. They made the best of what they had. It wasn't ideal, but that was real life. It wasn't all about the sexual charge, or the passionate embraces, or even the stimulating conversation. It was about learning to co-exist together – to build a good rhythm together, which she and Mark had most certainly done.

Sod Nick Cutter, she thought to herself resolutely as she rolled over on her side. So she fancied him? Big deal. She'd be lying to herself if she said that she'd never had a crush on anyone else other than Mark before. She was sure this unwanted torch would extinguish itself given time, just like her other flames had. After all, what possible future could she have with Nick Cutter? And anyway, why was she even bothering to tear herself apart over the mere thirty seconds when she had thrown all common sense out of the window? Cutter probably hadn't even given it a second thought since she had hastily made her exit that fateful night. He'd probably woken up the next day with a massive hang-over, put everything that had happened between them down to the drink, and moved on. Just like she should have done. All she needed to do was put it all to the back of her mind, just like Nick had probably done. That's all. She just needed to not think about it . . .

With her new resolve resonant in her mind, she closed her eyes and snuggled further into her bedcover to make herself more comfortable. As she did so, her back inadvertently brushed against Marks, and before she could master any control over her emotions, she found herself flinching at the contact.


	8. Close encounters

**Another short one I'm afraid, I'm trying to fit them in between my lab dissertation and trying to have some semblence of a social life lol. Enjoy x**

Chapter 8

Cutter sat reclined in the chair in his office, staring blindly at the giant artificial light flickering slightly on the ceiling directly above him. It was only about seven o'clock in the morning, and as there was no anomaly alert, there was really no need for him to be at the ARC so early, but he was sick of sloping around that big empty house with only his own screwed up mind for company. He had wanted to come in early, to get himself situated . . . to prepare himself before he was confronted with the inevitability of seeing _her_ face . . .

He gulped slightly as a fresh rush of dread entered his stomach, making it clench uncomfortably. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face. Quite frankly, he was sick of feeling like a hormonal adolescent. He was a grown man for God's sake, and had suffered through more women troubles than he cared to remember, meaning he should be wise enough not to be taken in by the likes of Jenny Lewis. But still, he had sat at home most of the weekend, a glass of neat whiskey in hand, going over and over every finer detail of that night. And the more he thought about it, the more incensed he became. How _dare_ she. She _knew_ the power she had over him, that much was clear enough, and she had well and truly used it to her advantage. What was it – had she been feeling a bit unwanted by her fiancé and needed Cutter to confirm that she was still desirable? Well he had certainly done that, whether he had intended to or not. And it sickened him. Not only had allowed himself to be seduced by an engaged woman - which he was disgusted at in its own right – but to his complete horror, he had found himself unwillingly replaying those moments over and over in his mind until he had committed every single kiss and touch to memory. Every time he found himself doing it, he had shook himself mentally, and tried to force his mind to remember Claudia instead. But without fail, every thought about her was irreparably interrupted by Jenny. In fact, it was all he could do to wrench his thoughts away from her. That night when he had lain down in bed, he could still catch echoes of her perfume on his skin; still hear her soft panting against his ear; still taste the red wine on her lips; still feel her warm weight pressed up against him . . .

The memory of how he had ran his hand slowly up her back remained stubbornly clear in his mind, and he suddenly found himself wondering if Claudia's skin would have felt so good under his finger tips . . .

He blinked stupidly and shook his head, completely unwilling to follow that thought train. It was only a matter of time before he ran into Jenny today. How would he be able to look her in the eye when he was having inappropriate thoughts about her merely seconds before? He took a deep steadying breath of the stuffy regulated air, and placed his palms flat on the desk, his insides squirming.

_Just stop deluding yourself, _he thought to himself firmly. _She had probably forgotten all you when she got into bed with her fiance that night. And why wouldn't she have? She was engaged for goodness sake! Why on earth would she look at you twice without a gallon of wine down her? _

His head snapped up abruptly as he spotted her strutting across the main room, his stomach doing a somersault as his eyes followed her. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, and she resolutely had her nose buried in a file, as though determined not to let her eyes flicker upwards towards him. Without so much as a backwards glance, she strode straight into her office. He relaxed back slightly, torn between relief that she hadn't marched straight up to him to have it out, and slight annoyance that he had geared himself for a dramatic encounter, and now was going to be forced to live on his nerves all day, not knowing when he'd run into her. Great. Part of him did wish that she'd just got the first meeting over with so that they could go back to their typical Cutter - Jenny relationship; awkward glances, tense silences, and fiery arguments. Just the way it should be. That way, he knew what was what, and he wouldn't keep getting Jenny and Clauida mixed up in his mind.

He sat back in his chair, losing himself in his musing again. From what he had observed about this strange new Claudia in the past couple of months, she was not one to avoid an issue. She was more the 'tackle it head on' sort of woman, much like Helen had been. It didn't seem like her to not storm up to him and put himstraight in his place. In fact the more he thought about it, the more he found it rather strange that _she_ seemed to be the one adamant to avoid _him_. But why would she do that, if the whole thing had meant nothing to her? A sudden unwanted pulse of excitement surged through him as soon as his mind ticked over to the obvious conclusion – maybe he was not the only one unable to rid themselves of the blazing images of Friday night? Maybe she hadn't just shrugged it off like he'd assumed . . .

With new eyes on the subject, he got to his feet and started towards Jenny's office before he was aware that he had even made a decision on the matter. Adrenaline pulsating through him, he pushed open the door, and he saw that she was standing behind her desk, thumbing through a bunch of paperwork. Her gaze flickered upwards absently, but her eyes narrowed considerably as they met his, and her shoulders immediately tensed. However in a split second, her expression was replaced by a look of professional detachment, and her gaze returned to her work.

"Can I help you with something Cutter?" she asked, her cool tone like a slap in the face.

"No," he replied as he stepped deeper into the office, perhaps a little too abruptly to be believable.

"Then what do you want?" she snapped, not even doing him the courtesy of meeting him in the eye as she continued to pore over the file in her hands.

"I just wanted to ask if you got home okay on Friday?" he said slowly and deliberately, knowing that the mention of the taboo night would be sure to provoke a response from her.

Sure enough, she seemed to freeze in the process of flipping a page over, although there was no hint of a reaction on her face. She still kept her eyes fixed on the piece of paper in front of her, clearly not having any desire to look around at him.

"Yes, I got home fine thank you," she answered eventually in a curt tone. "Now if that's all - "

"I take Mark didn't mind you coming home so late then?" Cutter pushed further, partly wanting to hurt her, but mostly with the intention to break through this annoyingly detached façade she had adopted. If he was still haunted by their actions the other night, then he wanted to make damn sure she was too.

At his words, she unexpectedly slammed her file down on the desk, making him jump slightly. Her face like thunder, she stormed around the desk, starting towards him. For a second, Cutter actually thought she was going to slap him, and backed off a little, but she walked straight passed him and slammed the door shut loudly.

She turned to him, looking livid. "If you've got something to say Cutter, then just spit it out now," she said through gritted teeth. "I haven't got time to be playing these silly games."

"_I'm_ playing games?" he gaped in a strained whisper, knowing he was more than capable of matching her anger. "I'm not the one who started this! _You_ came onto _me_!"

She stopped midway through her mouth forming a word, and looked away, biting her lip and her brow furrowed. When she looked back at him, a flicker of helplessness could be seen in her eyes.

"You took advantage of me," she stated quietly, voice cracking noticeably as she spoke.

"I did _what_?" he spluttered, feeling injustice bubble in the pit of his stomach. "I wouldn't . . . I _couldn't_ -"

"I was drunk!" she insisted in a hushed, yet venomous voice. "And I was vulnerable - "

"Oh please!" he sniggered cruelly, stepping closer into her personal space. "You've never been vulnerable in your life!"

"I _told_ you Mark and I were having trouble – I told you all!" she hissed, ignoring his remark. "You shouldn't have let me drink so much - "

"I told you to stop drinking!" he exploded, anger flooding through him. "And in case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly known for your impeccable advice taking abilities."

"You should have sent me home!" she pushed, her cheeks flushed with anger and her hands making frantic gestures showing her frustration. "You shouldn't have let me . . ."

"What?" he probed, stepping even closer to her. He wanted to hear her admit it; wanted her to actually say the words, more to confirm to herself that it did in fact actually happen than anything else. "What shouldn't I have let you do?"

If she was unnerved by his close proximity to her, she didn't show it. Instead, she looked up him brazenly, her brown eyes reverted to stone cold and pitiless.

"Now let me make myself perfectly clear," she stated quietly and slowly, as though she was explaining a complicated mathematical equation to an unwilling student. "If I hadn't drunk my own weight in wine on Friday, I wouldn't have gone anywhere near you. And you can rest assured that nothing like that will _ever_ happen again. Is that clear?"

His heart throbbed painfully as he looked down at her, desperately trying to keep his expression impassive. She stared back at him, her eyes studying his face as though waiting for a sign of weakness that she could use to her advantage. He was determined at the very least not to give her one. Boldly, he leaned forward so that his lips were merely inches away from hers, as though they were lovers about to exchange an intimate secret. He sensed her freeze in front of him, although she made no attempt to push him away.

"Whatever you say," he said in a barely audible whisper, aware that there was a certain sensuality at exchanging words in such close proximity.

When he pulled back, for the first time, he noticed that her expression had changed from detached and emotionless to something he couldn't quite recognise. Something he'd never seen in her before. Rather than being able to explore these hidden depths further, he turned and left her standing there before he could embarrass himself any more than he already had.


	9. The beginning

**Urg, it's took me nearly a week to write such a short chapter :/ literally have almost zero free time I'm afraid. Oh well, hope you enjoy anyway!**

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Chapter 9

Jenny found herself sitting on her couch, jiggling her foot impatiently, the day having past her in a complete blur after her chilling run-in with Cutter. Lost in her thoughts, she inhaled shakily, remembering how he had leaned towards her; how close he had come to kissing her again . . . and she had done nothing to push him away. She had well and truly confirmed to him, as well as herself, that she wanted him. And it irked her. She didn't want to display weakness; not only was it not in her usual nature, but the idea of showing any sort of vulnerability to someone as infuriating and arrogant as Cutter made her burn. Touching the back of her hand to her flushing cheek, she shook her head slightly, as though the action would rid her of the memory of that smug look in his eye when he had pulled away from her. She had no doubt he had known exactly what was on her mind. Contorting her face in shame, she ran her hand over her forehead gingerly. This was silly. She was only having these feelings for Cutter because of some warped need for closure from Friday night. That was all. It's not like she'd had harboured any romantic feelings for him before that horrid incident. All she needed to do was pour all of her energy into her relationship with Mark instead of nursing some mortifying school girl crush on Cutter.

Straightening up slightly, she glanced up at the clock that was ticking away happily on the wall; eight pm. Mark was due home any minute after another late night at the office. A sigh escaped her lips as she tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch, her mind in whirling with quick fix solutions that she could possibly use to get her engagement back on track. One particular fail-safe method popped up into her mind immediately, and before she could stop herself, she found that the very thought of it made her recoil. She took a deep breath to compose herself, feeling a twinge of annoyance – Mark was her fiancé for goodness sake. The idea of being intimate with him shouldn't make her squirm in the way it had begun to lately. If she was going to make this work with him, she was going to have to try and make more of an effort; she had to try and get their relationship back to how it used to be before the ARC and before Cutter . . .

Almost as though he had sensed what she was thinking, there was suddenly the sound of the key turning in the lock. Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she stood up abruptly and flattened out her skirt, hitching the standard fake smile on her face that had become her default mode in the past couple of months. As soon as Mark strode through the door, and before he could even utter a greeting, Jenny strode over to him, flinging herself into his arms. He made a surprised noise in his throat as she pulled his mouth onto hers.

After a while, he broke the kiss, positively beaming at her. "Well hello to you too," he grinned, snaking his arms around her back. "What have I done to deserve this?"

"Nothing," she replied with an attempted smile as she grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him into her again. "It's just that I've never wanted you so much . . ."

He smiled against her lips and kissed her again as he pushed the door shut with his leg, squeezing her as the embrace intensified. As they staggered towards the couch, Jenny couldn't help but think about how different Cutter's kisses were in comparison. Not soft and needy like Mark's, but rough, powerful and passionate - as though she was the only woman in the world for him. She shook herself mentally when she realised she was thinking about Nick again, and tried to focus on the man she was entwined around . . .

Suddenly, Mark pulled away and held her firmly by the shoulders, as though he had read what – or more accurately who - was on her mind.

"What's wrong?" she questioned uneasily, tilting her head to the side.

"Nothing," he replied immediately, stroking her arms lightly as he half-glanced up at the door. "It's just that I want to have a shower first, that's all."

Surprised, she laughed slightly, her hands caressing the back of his neck. "Oh don't be ridiculous, you don't need a shower - "

"It's just that I don't get this lucky very often," he interrupted with a cheesy smile. "I want it to be perfect. And it just won't be if I'm stinking of the office will it?"

Sliding her hands down his chest, she sighed convincingly. "Fine," she said, ensuring her voice conveyed a definite twang of longing. "I guess I'll meet you up there then."

He smiled and pecked her lightly on the lips. "Give me two minutes," he said with a wink, before he turned and hurried out of the room.

She watched him through the banister until his legs had disappeared up the stairs, and immediately, she allowed her face to fall again. Ringing her hands together in a slightly compulsive manner, she chided herself yet again for her unwillingness to be with her fiancé. After all, before she had joined the ARC, they had barely been able to keep their hands off each other. Why was it any different now? What had changed?

_Maybe you have,_ an annoying inner voice chimed in.

No – she refused to believe that. She was Jenny Lewis, the Public Relations genius who worshipped clothes, makeup and magazines. Why should she change just because she had got a new job, albeit one with a rather unusual duty description? She was still her. She was still the girl who had scored highest in all her classes whilst being the most popular girl in school; she was still the girl who had graduated from Cambridge with honours, and ruthlessly worked her way up the career ladder until she was top of her profession. She was still the girl with the supremely handsome fiancé, whom she had bagged above all the other woman that were swooning for him at the time. She should feel happy; no, she should feel _proud_ of herself. She had the life she had always dreamt of. Was she such a self-destructive person that she couldn't just allow herself to be content?

Her mind made up, she clapped her hands together decisively, and hurriedly began her ascent up the stairs. She could hear the shower running through the closed bathroom door as she walked into the bedroom. To set the mood – or more accurately, in an attempt to _get_ herself in the mood – she dimmed the lights, before her eyes fell on Mark's work clothes, casually strewn all over the floor. She sighed to herself. For such an attractive man, he could be such a bloody slob sometimes. Grumbling to herself, she bent down to pick them up with the intent of chucking them in the wash basket in the bathroom, but before she could so much as turn, something on Mark's usually pristine-white shirt caught her eye. She squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light . . . was that . . .?

It was.

There was bright red lipstick on his collar.

Her stomach tightened nauseously as she held the shirt up to her nose, taking a deep inhale. She immediately withdrew it with a disgusted gasp; it absolutely reeked of a woman's perfume. A cheap smelling one, certainly not anything she would wear.

Her heart thudded wildly against her ribs as she aggressively threw the shirt onto the floor. So that's why the lying bastard had wanted to take a shower before she came near him; in case she'd smelled another woman's discount scent on him! Blood pounding in her ears, she turned and fled down the landing.

"Jen, can you pass me a towel?" Mark's simpering voice issued out of the still-closed bathroom door.

She ignored him – she had too. Because if she saw his smarmy little face right now, she'd probably end up in prison. She thundered down the stairs, vaguely registering him calling her name again, but she blocked it out, and didn't stop running until she was in the car, breathing hard, hot tears streaming down her face.

* * *

Cutter felt himself dozing as the television screen flashed dully in front of him; the image of some period drama drifting into his subconscious as he sank further and further into sleep . . .

The doorbell rang unexpectedly, causing him to jerk awake abruptly, murmuring some nonsense as he struggled to regain composure. It took him a few seconds to realise that there was someone at the door, and hurriedly, he got to his feet. Rubbing his tired eyes slightly, he slouched off to answer it, hoping that it wasn't someone he had to invite in out of politeness – he was not in the mood for a social call right now. Not after the day he'd had.

Stifling a yawn, he reached forward and pulled the front door open. He felt his eyes widen in surprise as his eyes immediately rested on none other than Jenny Lewis. She had her arms hugged around herself, trembling slightly in the bitter winter chill.

"Jenny . . . what - " he began, unable to hide his shock at finding her on his doorstep.

Before he could even verbalise his astonishment, her cold lips were on his, knocking the wind straight out of him. She closed the door with her foot, wrapping her arms around his neck, and they both staggered backwards into his hallway, lips still frantically entwined. When his brain started back up again, Cutter pushed her away, holding her firmly by the shoulders.

"I – what - " he stammered, unsure as to whether he was dreaming or not.

"Nick, just shut up," she breathed, putting pressure on the back of his neck so that their lips met again.

"You're really giving me mixed signals here," he murmured against her.

"I know, I'm sorry," she gasped, before taking his lips again.

And with that, Cutter gave in. He couldn't fight his attraction for her anymore. He had neither the strength nor the willpower to stop the inevitable, and neither (it seemed) could she. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, and frantically . . . _desperately_ . . . they staggered up the stairs.


	10. Splitting hairs

Chapter 10

Cutter relaxed back into his bed, panting hard and irregularly, struggling to bring his pounding heart rate back to normal. Jenny lay down next to him, pulling the duvet up to her chest, and automatically, he opened his arm to allow her to settle closer into him. As she did so, he stroked her hair back and planted a clumsy kiss on her forehead, tasting the faint salty resonance of sweat there that he knew also adorned his own brow. They lay there a while in a comfortable silence whilst they came down from their shared high. Cutter traced lazy circles on the smooth skin of her arm, and she responded by running her hand up and down his chest lightly.

It was Cutter who spoke first once he had successfully fought against the first waves of exhaustion.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything," he said tentatively, his voice still uneven. "But what on earth brought this on? I thought I had been assured that nothing like this would ever happen again?" he added with a smile, echoing her words from earlier that day.

She sighed slightly and turned on her side towards him, tucking her arm under her head to prop herself up. "Well," she began slowly, giving off a certain air of reluctance to say what was on her mind. "I . . . I found . . ." she hesitated for a second, her eyes seemingly unable to hold his gaze. " . . . I found some lipstick on Mark's collar today. And I just snapped. I can't believe he's been cheating on me this whole time - "

Cutter sat up abruptly, indignity shooting through him like a lightning bolt. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. "So that's what I am to you? Revenge?"

She sat up herself, holding the sheet firmly up to her chest. "No," she protested immediately, her expression looking pained. "That's not it at all."

"Well it certainly sounded that way - "

"It's just that . . ." she interrupted, running one hand back through her ruffled hair. "Well, I thought that if Mark's not denying himself someone what he wants, why should I?"

Heart softening slightly at the implied compliment there, he turned to face her properly. "Why are you still with him?" he asked, watching as her expression contorted.

"It's complicated," she replied evasively, her voice cool.

"But it's obvious that neither of you are happy - ?"

"Oh, and what would you know about it?" she snapped out of the blue, holding the sheet closer to herself. "You don't know me. And you certainly don't know Mark - "

"I know that people who love each other don't jump into bed with others at the first sign of trouble."

"And what would you have me do then?" she exclaimed angrily. "Leave him? Leave the man I've been with for three years for _you_? For someone who only wants me because I look like their old girlfriend?"

Cutter opened his mouth to reply, but he closed it again immediately when words failed him. She was right of course – he couldn't expect her to break off her engagement when he wasn't certain if his feelings for her were independent from his feelings for Claudia. It wasn't fair to her, nor to Claudia's memory.

"See - I thought not," she continued, clearly reading everything in his silence. "Why can't we just keep things the way they are?"

He snapped his head up immediately. "What?" he gaped, unable to hide his surprise at her words. "You – you want us to carry on?"

"Well, why not?" she shrugged as though they were discussing something as normal as the weather, and not the prospect of their continuing adultery.

"Because - because you're engaged to another man!" Cutter exclaimed, half-laughing in aspiration.

"Well that didn't seem to be an issue a moment ago!" she pointed out hotly, folding her arms tightly.

"That's – that's beside the point," he stammered, feeling completely and utterly blindsided. "I can't keep sleeping with another man's woman. Then I'd be no better than Stephen. You're well aware of what he and Helen did to me."

"That was different," she replied immediately, shaking her head.

"How?" he challenged her.

"Because I'm not married to Mark," she answered confidently. "And Stephen was supposed to be your friend. I can't remember the last time you and Mark went to the match together."

"You're splitting hairs here - "

"No, I'm not," she cut him off, her voice brittle. "I'm stating the truth. But if you don't want me - "

"I didn't say that, did I?" he said through gritted teeth, not liking his words being twisted against him.

"Could have fooled me," she snapped as she got out of bed. "It sounds to me like you wish this to be a one off," she added coldly as she began to dress.

"I – I don't," he replied reluctantly, although one hundred per cent truthfully. "But I don't think that I have the stomach to have an affair. It's just not who I am."

"Well you wouldn't be the one having an affair would you?" she retorted as she pulled on her blouse. "It'd be me who'd have to do all of the lying and the sneaking around."

"And you think you can do that?" he questioned.

She finished buttoning herself up and sighed, her hands on her hips. "If he can do it, so can I. And this way we all get what we want. Mark would get me off his back, and for a few fleeting moments, you could pretend to have your precious Claudia back."

He froze for a moment, wondering if she was testing him with her last statement; unsure of whether or not she wanted him to deny the fact that being with her gave him the briefest glimpse into what he could have had if the world had not gone askew, and if Claudia had never been wiped from existence.

"Well be sure to tell me when you've made up your mind," she continued before he could say a word as she zipped up the back of her skirt. "I'll see you at work." She reached down and picked up her long since discarded bag, and as she did so, her eyes seemed to be drawn to something on his bedside table.

"Oh and by the way," she added, reaching forward and planting an unexpected kiss on his lips. "Happy Birthday," she stated with a wink as she straightened up, and without further word, turned and sauntered out of the room.

Bemused, he glanced around at the alarm clock next to him, and with surprise, he noticed that it was quarter past midnight. Yes, he was now another year older, but by the way his stomach was squirming with unwanted excitement at the prospect of many such encounters with Jenny Lewis, he was not much wiser.


	11. The reality of it

Chapter 11

Jenny was reminded forcibly of her antics on Friday night as she once again crept back into her dark house. However this time, she was not fooled that she would be able to get away with it; she knew that Mark was going to be waiting up for her. Sure enough, when she turned on the hall light, she found him sitting on the stairs, his head rested in his cupped hands.

"You're up late sweetheart," she said coldly as she placed her keys on the side table. "Guilty conscience keeping you up is it?"

"Hardly," he retorted, his voice wavering with anger as he stood up. "More the fact that I had no idea where my fiancée was, or indeed why she ran out on me in the first place."

She chuckled coolly as she slipped her heels off, kicking them haphazardly beside the table. "I'm sure you managed to amuse yourself in my absence."

Mark gaped at her, his wide eyes travelling all over her face. "Who_ are_ you?" he asked eventually, each syllable he spoke conveying his utter disbelief. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" she questioned icily, placing her hands on her hips in what she hoped was an imposing stance.

"Like I have no business asking you where you're running off to all the time?" he replied in a tense voice. "Like I have no right to be meddling in your affairs or something? I'm going to be your husband for God's sake!"

She let out a cold, merciless laugh before she could stop herself, finding his choice of wording rather apt.

"What on earth is so funny?" he asked, watching her as though she were mad as she doubled over in her fit of manic laughter. "Are you having some sort of breakdown?"

When she eventually composed herself, she straightened up, putting the back of her hand against her lips to hide her smile. "No. I just think it's quite amusing that you used the word 'affairs'."

"I – I don't - " he began, looking thoroughly bemused.

"And what of your affairs darling?" she interrupted, tilting her head to the side in feigned curiosity.

"Will you please tell me what the _hell_ you're babbling on about?" he snapped, stepping down the few stairs so that he joined her in the hall.

"I saw the collar of your work shirt," she informed him, crossing her arms. "I saw the lipstick on it, and smelled the horrid perfume - "

"Jen - " Mark began as he stepped towards her, a rather desperate look in his eye.

"I must say sweetheart, I thought you would have at least bothered to buy your whore some perfume that doesn't smell like an industrial solvent - "

"_Jen!_" he exclaimed more persistently, grabbing her shoulders to silence her. "That lipstick and perfume was from my mother."

Jenny stared at him for a few seconds, narrowing her eyes in complete disbelief. "What?" she said eventually.

"After work, I went to visit my mother," he explained, still holding her firmly. "She wanted to go through some details of the guest list for the wedding with me because she said she couldn't get a hold of you. The lipstick must have got on my collar when she hugged me goodbye, and you know she always wears horrid perfume - "

"I – you're lying," she stuttered, her voice wavering not with shock, but with dread that he was actually being truthful.

He swiftly let go of her shoulders, and turned, snatching the house phone up off the stand. "Call her," he snapped, holding the phone out to her insistently. "Go on, call her. Ask if I was with her if you don't believe me."

Her stomach turning to jelly, she looked from the phone to Mark's stubborn looking face. He was telling the truth. She knew that he would never call her bluff like this, as he was well aware that she was the type of woman to just go ahead and call anyway. But if he hadn't cheated on her . . . if he hadn't been unfaithful . . . she'd had no reason to go to Cutter's bed.

_Oh God . . ._

"No, it's okay. I believe you," she said in a small voice, guilt pulsating through her veins.

With a sigh, he placed the phone back on the receiver, and turned back to her, his expression sympathetic. He reached forward and cupped his hands around her face.

"Do you think I could ever betray you like that?" he said softly, pulling her closer so that he could rest his forehead on hers. "Do you think I could ever look at another woman when I have you?"

Jenny squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip, feeling shame swell inside her like a balloon. "No," she answered in a whisper, not trusting her voice to remain steady if she spoke at a higher volume. "No. Of course you wouldn't."

He smiled at her, and pulled her into a hug. She tensed immediately, scared that he'd be able to smell Cutter's scent on her, but it seemed that he was completely oblivious. "I don't blame you for jumping to that conclusion though," he spoke into her hair as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I probably would have thought the same thing if the roles were reversed. But please promise that if something's wrong in the future, you'll talk to me about it instead of running off?"

"I promise," she replied automatically, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she pulled away from him. "I'm tired sweetheart – I'm going to go to bed now."

He smiled and planted a kiss on her un-wanting lips. "Okay," he said. "I'll be up in a moment."

She nodded, not able to say anything more as she turned to ascend the stairs, the weight of her unjustified betrayal crushing down on her. _Why_ hadn't she waited to have it out with Mark before she had run to Cutter? _Why_ had she not used her head instead of following her foolish desire? Not only had she cheated on her fiancé, which she had been perfectly okay with given her assumptions of his indiscretions, but now it seems that she was the only adulterer in the relationship. Dressing quickly into her night clothes, she got into bed, feeling more disgusted with herself than ever.

And yet . . .

There was another feeling buried deep beneath the shame that she only began to examine once the shock of Mark's supposed faithfulness started to dissipate. She knew exactly what that feeling was – it was excitement. She found that she was burning to be with Cutter again, and consequences be damned. So what if this time, it had been his mother that Mark had visited? It didn't necessarily mean that he had been faithful to her since they had begun dating did it? That aside, they had practically no intimacy between them anymore; no absorbing conversations, no desire for each other . . . well, at least she had none for him left anyway. So what if she wanted to continue seeing Cutter? Mark 'worked' so many hours anyway; he'd barely notice she was otherwise engaged.

_God, when did you turn into such a bitch? _an annoyingly principled voice in her head interjected. _When did you start having such loose morals?_

She was spared having to argue with this pesky little voice by the sound of the bedroom door opening. Immediately, she closed her eyes and ensured that her breathing was soft and rhythmic, all the better to feign sleep. She felt the mattress sink slightly, telling her that Mark had took his place next to her, and she shuddered inwardly, wishing beyond anything that it was Nick Cutter climbing into bed with her instead.


	12. In or out

**Another short one I'm afraid :( will these labs every end! Lol, hope you enjoy x**

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Chapter 12

As Cutter stepped into the heavily regulated atmosphere of the ARC, there was only one thing on his mind, or more accurately, only one _person. _His heart thudded with anticipation as he made his way towards Jenny's office, wondering how she'd react when she saw him in their shared work environment, with the thoughts of last night's actions still as vivid as they were when they were performing them. He knew it was childish really to be feeling this nervous about seeing her; after all, they were both adults. They were both a bit too old to play coy. Nevertheless, he had spent the entire night tossing and turning, too wrapped in having a heated internal debate to being bothered with trivial things such as sleep. It was as though he had an angel perched on one shoulder, and on the other a devil, both trying to sway him to their side. If he was to continue what he had started with Jenny, he had no doubt that he would be happy, in her presence at least. He had a chance to do something for himself for once; to allow the hurt of Helen's betrayal and Claudia's disappearance to be temporarily healed. But if he were to embark upon this immoral path – what sort of man did that make him? He had never once cheated on anyone, nor been with a woman who was already taken, last night aside. Did he really want to sacrifice that conservative part of himself? And if he did – would that make him a hypocrite after the coldness he had shown towards Stephen after Helen's revelation? Would it make him just as bad as his old friend?

A part of him wanted to try and resist her. A part of him wanted to convince himself that last night had been a one off, and tell Jenny to go back to her fiancé. But he couldn't lie to himself. He _needed_ her. Last night was the first time he had felt alive in a long while, and he just wasn't ready to let that feeling go. Not yet. Not when he knew Jenny wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He reached her office, and knocked on the door, his heart practically jumping to his throat with nerves.

"Come in," her soft voice said from the other side.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he opened the door and stepped inside. She looked up from the paperwork on her desk, her expression absent, but as soon her gaze met his, she smiled, and placed her pen down.

"Yes?" she said, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her legs.

Batting away the immediate surge of desire that rose in his stomach, he closed the door behind himself, and stepped deeper into her office.

"Um," he began, annoyed that he seemed to have lost the power of speech.

She stared at him for a moment, an amused smile playing on her lips. Again, he attempted to vocalise some semblance of what he had decided, but the words caught in his throat again. When she apparently realised that nothing more was forthcoming off him, she stood up and slowly walked around her desk. When she was merely inches from him, she perched down on the edge of the table, and leaned back slightly in a way that highlighted her chest suggestively. With difficulty, he managed to keep his eyes trained on hers, instead of allowing them to travel downwards.

"Yes?" she pushed again, smiling more broadly.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand across the back of his neck, unsure as to whether saying what was on his mind was too presumptuous. However, to clarify things, she leant forward, speaking with her lips so close to his that he could feel the warmth radiating off them.

"Nick," she said in that softly cultivated voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. "Are you in, or are you out?" she asked slowly, holding each syllable on her tongue a little longer than was necessary, making sure her meaning was very clear.

His breath caught in his mouth as he hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, not wanting to spoil anything with his fumbling words, he cupped her head in his hands and pulled her lips onto his, wanting to convey his complete and utter submission without having to verbalise anything. She gasped, clearly surprised, but she seemed to recover herself quite quickly, and proceeded to kiss him back roughly. But before he could lose himself in the bliss that was inarguably her, she pulled away. For one horrible second, he though she had changed her mind, but the look that still remained in her eye clearly told him otherwise.

"Ground rules," she breathed, completely catching him off guard.

"What?" he asked, bemused as he studied her expression. "What are you talking about?"

She pushed him away gently so that there was a few feet of space between them, and stood up, straightening out her skirt. "Firstly, we are colleagues whilst at work, and lovers whilst in bed. We are nothing more," she began in a brisk tone. "There will be no romantic dinners, no gifts, and no flowers. I am not your baby, your sweetheart, your darling, your honey, nor any other variation of the term 'girlfriend'. Understood?"

"Should I be taking notes or something?" Cutter laughed in incredulity, unable to believe she was actually being serious.

"Understood?" she pressed again, her eyes willing him to agree.

He shook his head in disbelief and looked away, rubbing his hand over his temple, half amused by her attitude to the whole thing, and half incensed by her need to put in place such boundaries in the first place. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. When he was finally able to bring himself to look back at her, he found her watching him, looking slightly aspirated. He took a second to look at her – to _really_ look as her. Her face was pale and freckled, much like Claudia's, although her skin was matted with expensive make-up, and her eyes lined heavily with black eyeliner. Her hair was pinned back, her preferred style for work, and her lips were rosebud red, although slightly smudged from their last embrace. As he studied her, he suddenly realised that whatever she looked like – whatever her differences to Claudia – she still took her breath away. It was this epiphany that finally made his treacherous decision.

"Understood," he confirmed with a curt nod.

She beamed at him; a smile that lit up her face and caused his chest to convulse with longing. She leaned into him again, clearly meaning to continue where they had left of, but before their lips could meet, the door opened from behind him unexpectedly. They jumped apart like shrapnel, both startled, and immediately, Jenny retreated to the other side of her desk, her hand to her mouth, obviously rubbing away the incriminating evidence of her smudged lipstick. Cutter wiped his mouth as well, quickly and discretely, before he turned to see that that the intruder was a merry-looking Connor. He bounced in, giving off his usual air of excitement, and judging by his expression, he was blissfully unaware of what he had so nearly interrupted.

"Happy Birthday Cutter," he grinned, giving him a playful dig in the arm.

"Thanks," Cutter said automatically, more to avoid looking guilty rather than actually appreciating the greeting.

"Did you get anything nice this year?" Connor asked politely.

"Um, well you could say that," Cutter replied rather smugly, half-glancing round at Jenny.

She had busied herself shuffling through some paperwork, although she looked up briefly and caught Cutter's eye, the ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

"Did you want something?" Cutter contined, speaking to Connor.

"Can I show you the new programme I've installed on the Detector?" he asked, looking excited at the prospect of presenting his no doubt ingenious invention.

"Aye," Cutter nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "I'll be right behind you."

Connor nodded enthusiastically, before trotting off, leaving the door annoyingly wide open behind him. Knowing that it would look suspicious if he went and closed it after him, but also fearing being overheard, Cutter stepped closer to Jenny, who still had her eyes fixed on her files.

"What are you doing tonight then?" he asked her in an undertone.

"You," she replied curtly, not a hint of a reaction on her face as she continued to shuffle the papers into order.

Then she glanced up at him, and smiled, raising her eyebrow suggestively. He returned her smile before backing out of her office, his stomach somersaulting. Although as he made his way to the ARC's main room to join Connor at the Detector, he suddenly realised that he couldn't quite determine whether the butterflies were down to the thrill of what he and Jenny were about to embark on, or the guilt of it.


	13. The gesture

**I'm not very happy with this chapter, but ah well – I'll just see it as a filler chapter! x**

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Chapter 13

So that was how their affair had begun.

As often as she could get away with without arousing the suspicion of her fiancé, Jenny met Cutter at his house, and they spent several blissful hours together – mainly vertical, if he was to be plain. At the ARC of course, she was as professional as ever; so much so that her work-adopted coolness towards him often made him wonder if he was indeed imagining the entire thing himself. As soon as she stepped through his front door however, she was a different person. Warm, funny, and completely and utterly his. True to his word, Cutter had not tried to elicit anything more out of their encounters, but inside, he burned to be able to do things with her that normal couples did. Silly things like holding hands, going on dates, waking up together; all of it seemed so trivial, and yet they were the things he was rapidly beginning to long for as the weeks passed. Following her self-imposed ground rules, Jenny would seldom stay long afterwards, usually having some sort of function or engagement to hurry off to. Despite the fact that he would not swap the times he shared with her for neither anything nor anyone, every time she got up and dressed, he felt a hollow sense of loss. The knowledge that she was to return home to her fiancé ignited a flame of jealousy in his stomach that was rapidly becoming harder and harder to extinguish.

A few weeks after their first tryst, they lay in bed together side by side, their fingers entwined, speaking softly to each other about this and that. It was one of those rare instances where she seemed in no hurry to leave, and so he got to enjoy her for a few more blissful moments. He reached up with his free hand, and stroked a stray tendril of hair back, tucking it behind her ear. She closed her eyes at his touch, a contented sigh escaping her lips as his fingers wandered down her neck softly, and stroked the naked skin of her shoulder. Then suddenly, her eyes flew open, and she let out a startled cry, frightening the bloody life out of him.

"What?" he demanded, clutching his palpitating heart.

"What time is it?" she gasped, floundering with the bed sheets to sit up.

"You nearly gave me a coronary for _that_?" he gasped as his heart rate began to fall again.

"Nick?" she said persistently.

With a sigh, he pulled his arm up to his face to check his watch. "It's just gone eight."

She cursed loudly, and flung her legs out of the side of the bed. "I'm supposed to be meeting Mark at the restaurant at eight!" she exclaimed, looking panicked as her eyes searched the floor for her long since discarded dress. "Oh God, I'm so late!"

"So be later?" Cutter suggested as he sat up himself, leaning his back against the headboard.

She located her short black cocktail dress and quickly pulled it on. "I can't," she said, distracted as she reached back and zipped it up with one swift motion.

"You mean you won't," Cutter grumbled moodily, his jealousy getting the better of him as he watched her fish in her bag for something.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her lipstick out and huffed loudly as she turned and busied herself with reapplying it in the mirror. "Why are you being such a woman about this?" she demanded, looking at his reflection as she spoke. "I thought it was every man's fantasy to have a no strings relationship with a colleague?"

"Did you just call me a woman?" he laughed in disbelief.

She replaced the top of her lipstick and pursed her lips together, before turning round to face him again.

"You know what I mean," she said, fixing him with an aspirated look. "I thought I'd made things clear? I thought this was what we both wanted?"

"It is," he replied quietly, staring at his hands.

"Well then, what's the problem?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned as she walked back and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"Nothing," he replied untruthfully, having no desire to spoil anything by appearing too needy.

She tittered slightly as she reached forward and stroked the side of his face in a tender gesture that was so rare for her to exhibit. "Liar," she said, her voice full of fondness.

He sighed, and unconsciously leaned into her touch, treasuring ever single second of it. "It's just that . . ." he conceded, marvelling at how she had the power to draw even the most reluctant truth from his lips. "I just wish you didn't have to rush off all the time, that's all," he finished, not able to meet her in the eye.

"Well," Jenny said brightly. "Mark's away on a business trip next weekend. Maybe then I won't have anything to rush off to."

He looked up and smiled wanly, not knowing whether to feel happy about that piece of news, or else extremely insulted. She smiled too, and pecked him on the cheek, before standing again, as though to leave.

"Hang on a moment," Cutter said, grabbing her wrist to halt her, deciding in a split second to give her something he had up until that point decided to keep hidden.

In a moment of madness earlier that day, his mind full of Jenny, he had stopped off at a flower stall on the way home from work and purchased a single red rose, his befuddled mind not reasoning at the time that it would not be well received.

_Still_, he though to himself in that split second that she turned to leave. _Jenny is a woman_. _A modern woman, but a woman none-the-less. And women loved all that flowery feminine crap didn't they?_

She stopped and looked at him questioningly. Before he could lose all courage, he leant over the side of his bed and picked up the hidden flower, being careful to avoid the sharp thorns along the stem. He straightened up and extended the flower out to her, his stomach tightening in anticipation of her reaction. Her expression froze for a moment, and her eyes narrowed, before she slowly reached out and took it.

"What's this?" she asked, glancing back up at him, looking extremely confused.

"That is a flower," Cutter answered simply, pretending not to know what she was talking about.

"I know _what_ it is," Jenny corrected herself, looking down at the rose as though it was screaming obscenities at her. "What I meant was why are you giving it to me? I thought we agreed no flowers?"

"Aye," Cutter nodded fairly. "We said no flowers, pleural. But that is a flower _singular_. So, no rules broken."

She chuckled, her bright eyes drawn from the rose to him. "If I didn't know any better Nick, I'd say that this was a romantic gesture?" she said curtly, holding up the flower.

"You can see it as whatever you want," he replied with a smile, giving off a false air of confidence.

She laughed again, still looking down at the flower with disbelief. "Thank you," she said eventually in a quiet voice, catching and holding his gaze again. "It's beautiful."

"So are you," he reminded her.

She blushed slightly. "Stop it," she mumbled, tucking her loose and wavy hair behind her ear.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently, blinking up at her.

"This," she repeated, holding the rose up again. "Don't be getting all soppy on me."

"I'm not," he insisted, probably untruthfully if he was being honest with himself.

"Then stop all this compliment crap," she ordered, although her brusque tone didn't quite hide the hint of warmth in her voice. "And remember our arrangement," she added, crossing her arms sternly.

"Yes M'am," he nodded, allowing the smile on his lips to travel to his eyes.

She smiled ruefully, clearly aware that he was teasing her. Then she leaned forward, tilting his chin up to kiss him forcefully on the lips. He was breathless by the time she pulled back, and flashed him a dazzling smile.

"See you tomorrow," she said, before gathering up her things, and turning to leave.

For Cutter, tomorrow couldn't come quick enough.

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Jenny sat in her car with her mirror pulled down, allowing herself a few moments to straighten herself out before driving off to the restaurant, despite the fact that she was now extremely late. She fixed her slightly smudged lipstick, and reapplied her mascara, her mind so distracted that she nearly poked herself in the eye. She sighed and wiped off the little black dot she had made under her eye, half glancing at the rose sitting next to her on the passenger's seat.

_Why the hell would Cutter even think to buy her one? _She thought for the tenth time as she focused her attention back on her reflection.

Nick Cutter was just one of those men that didn't have a romantic bone in his body; well at least she had thought he hadn't before this little flower stunt. She glanced at the rose again, feeling overwhelmingly confused. Why was this gesture bothering her so much? It wasn't just that it was unexpected. It wasn't just that it was stepping over the line she had drawn between them. It was that in some treacherous part of her mind, she knew that she could actually get used to many such gestures like this from him.

She shook her head abruptly, forcing her mind away from Cutter. Sighing to herself, she scrunched her hair in an attempt to rekindle the bounce it had had before she had arrived for their liaison. When she was convinced it was as tame as it was going to get, she flipped the mirror back up, and sluggishly started up the engine. With a final glance at the house, she drove away, her heart as heavy as it always was when she left him. Not that she'd ever tell him that; not after those bloody stupid rules she had lain down. As she made her way to the restaurant she was duty-bound to be at, her glance kept falling on the rose; it was like a giant pink elephant in the car. Finally, she grew sick of feeling an painful emptiness that the sight of it evoked, so she snatched it up and swiftly shut it in the glove compartment. She sighed as her eyes returned to the road, regaining her composure as the restaurant drew closer and closer, praying that out of sight really did mean out of mind.


	14. How it all began

**An extra long chapter to make up for my sporadic updates! Much love x**

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Chapter 14

Mark twirled his mobile in his hand, absently flipping it over and over after trying and failing to get in touch with Jenny for at least the tenth time. She was an hour late, which was neither an unusual nor an irregular occurrence, but now it was getting to be supremely irritating. He knew she was a busy woman; heck, they were both busy career-minded people. But before she had gotten this bloody new job, she had always called if she was running late, full of apologies and pacifying words. Now however, she would just saunter in with a quick insincere 'I'm sorry', to which he would nod, and hold his tongue. But sitting in a busy restaurant alone, with the waitresses shooting him sympathetic looks every now and then as though he had been stood up, he was beginning to feel mighty sick of living like this. She was his wife; well, in practice at least. And he should not be the one waiting around for her all the time. It just wasn't becoming of a wife to behave like this, and something certainly had to change.

He slouched back in his chair, all etiquette forgotten as he descended deeper into his mood. The last few weeks, he had noticed a significant change in her. She seemed a lot more cheerful than usual; even when she was doing something mundane such as loading the dishwasher, she did so with a grin on her face. Once he even heard her singing in the shower for goodness sake. He had no idea what had caused her elevation in mood, but at first he had been willing to take full credit for it, assuming that whatever troubles had been going on between them were now well and truly over. However, he was quickly informed otherwise when, despite the fact that she was extremely pleasant company, she was still reluctant to be so much as hugged by him. Every time he leant in and kissed her, she'd turn her head quickly so that his lips pecked her cheek instead. And every time he put his arm round her in bed, he felt her freeze before abruptly shrinking away from him, as though he was a stranger. And it was really beginning to get on his nerves.

A waiter materialised by his side and picked up the bottle of wine from the table, to which Mark nodded to indicate he could top him up. As he watched the red liquid slosh into the glass, his thoughts drifted back to when he and Jenny first met, and the high hopes he had had for the two of them.

x x x

_Mark stood at the bar with his two old school friends chatting away next to him, his eyes searching the crowd as necked back the last mouthful of his wine. He was bored; he had not problem admitting that. This was the fourth wedding he had been forced to attend this year under the pretence of family obligation, and so dutifully, he had bought a new tailored suit and signed his name to his parents card, despite the fact that he barely even knew the happy couple; all's he really knew about them was that their parents were very important in his own parents social circle, and not attending would be as bad as putting two fingers up to the whole processional. _

_The meaningless alcohol-fuelled political debate his two friends were engaged in did nothing to entice him; too busy was he at eyeing up every bit of skirt that passed nearby. That was one of the only good things about these repetitive events – they were an ideal place to meet women. However, he couldn't help but notice that a lot of the women there looked vaguely familiar to him, and judging by the dirty looks he was getting off a few of them, it was probably because they were all somewhat drunken notches on his bedpost. That was another problem about these sorts of functions – it was the same bloody people every time, making sleeping with a girl and not calling her again rather awkward._

_Mark accepted another drink off his rowdy friends and turned to search the crowd again. He spotted his parents nattering away with another middle-aged couple at the other side of the room, then a few more familiar faces that he had been forced to grow up alongside through these sorts of events. Then, his eyes fell upon a face that he didn't recognise, and he double-took slightly. She was a stunning brunette who looked in her mid-twenties, although it seemed that her skilfully applied make-up was intended to hide her youth. As he studied her further, he noticed with an excited squirm that the rest of her was just as pleasing to the eye as that beautiful face; her red dress stretched tight around her, hugging every curve, and her legs were very shapely, and supremely desirable._

"_Now her I'll have to try," Mark spoke aloud to his friends, gesturing over to the mesmerising woman, who looked deep in conversation with a friend._

_They both looked round, following his eye line._

"_Which one?" Gregory asked curiously._

"_The brunette," Mark replied, nodding over to her again. "Sweet virginal face, tight red dress - "_

"_Wow," Mitchell interjected, his eyes widening as they fell on her. "Nice rack."_

"_Hmm," Mark agreed whole-heartedly. _

"_I've never seen her before," Mitchell said, looking the woman up and down._

"_Me neither," Mark shrugged, taking another gulp of his wine. "I wonder who she is?" _

"_I think she's John and Felicity Lewis's daughter," Gregory replied unexpectedly._

"_Really?" Mark pushed, snapping his head round in surprise. His parents had socialised in the same circles as the Lewis's since he could remember, but he certainly had no memory of laying eyes on this woman in his life._

"_Yes," Gregory nodded confidently with a small smile. _

"_Then why have I never met her before?" Mark questioned._

_Gregory shrugged, seemingly not as interested in figuring out the mystery as Mark was. "Maybe she just doesn't like coming to these things?" he suggested. "I mean, we're all only here to pacify the parental units aren't we?"_

_Mark set his half-empty drink down on the bar, before adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. "Well I think it's about time I went over and introduced myself, don't you?"_

_They both sniggered, knowing the reputation he had for pulling before the entrées had even been passed out. He smiled back before making his way through the throngs of people, his eyes firmly fixed on his target. When he reached her, she was laughing at something her friend had said, one hand over her mouth and the other resting on the other girls arm._

"_Hi," Mark said to her, speaking loudly over the party noise._

_The woman stopped laughing, although the echo of a smile remained on her red lips as she turned to him, looking him up and down. _

"_Hi," she said back in a resonantly posh voice, although her tone was very cool and officious. _

_Then, to his utter shock, she turned back to her friend and carried on their conversation, completely ignoring his presence as though he was nothing more than a statue in the background. Mark hesitated slightly, completely blind-sided – he had never once been blown off by a woman before._

"_Excuse me?" he tried again, his pulse racing unusually._

_She turned back to him again, looking rather aspirated. "Yes?" she asked in a force-calm voice. "Can we help you with something?"_

"_I'd settle for your name?" he pushed with a smile. _

"_I can't fathom what knowing my name would do for you," she replied acidly, giving him a very cold look. "Now, if you don't mind, we were in the middle of conversation."_

_She looked at him expectantly, as though she thought he would accept defeat and walk away. She clearly didn't know him very well. He smiled, before fixing his attention on her average-looking friend._

"_And what's your name?" he asked her, not really caring about the answer, but needing to maintain some sort of proper pretence._

"_Olivia," the woman replied with a half-glance at her friend._

"_Well Olivia, could I perhaps have a second alone with your charming friend here?" he asked politely, ensuring that his eyes were pleading. "I promise I won't keep her from you for long."_

_Olivia hesitated for a second, looking between the two of them awkwardly, before she reluctantly turned and disappeared off into the crowd of mulling guests._

"_So if you won't tell me your name, will you at least let me buy you a drink?" he asked his soon-to-be conquest._

_She gestured at the almost full white wine in her hand and shook her head. "Someone already beat you to it," she said in a bored voice. _

"_Oh, so I've got competition have I?" he asked, flashing his most disarming smile._

_She however seemed unfazed by it. "No," she retorted immediately. "Because that would imply that you had a chance in hell with me, which you certainly have not." _

"_Oh really?" he laughed, finding this woman more and more intriguing by the second. "And whys that?"_

_She looked back again, her gaze travelling up and down him. "Because you are not my type in the slightest," she stated brazenly._

_He laughed again, as he leant towards her slightly. "I'm everyone's type love."_

"_Well I hope you and 'everyone' will be very happy together," she said icily. "Now if you'll excuse me - " she half turned as though to walk away, but before she could . . ._

"_Jennifer, there you are," the voice of Felicity Lewis said from behind him. "I was wondering where you had got to."_

_Jennifer! Mark thought to himself triumphantly. Of course, he had heard people talking about her in passing. Jennifer Lewis - that was it!_

"_I'm sorry Mrs Lewis," Mark piped up, putting on his sweetest smile. "I was monopolising all of her time."_

"_Oh Mark!" Felicity exclaimed, resting her hand on his arm. "I didn't see you there. You're looking very handsome tonight."_

"_If I am, it pales in comparison to how radiant you are looking," he qualified._

_From beside him, he heard Jenny let out a harsh laugh that she quickly disguised as a cough, which Felicity either ignored her, or didn't hear._

"_Oh you are as charming as I remember," she tittered, before looking around at her daughter. "Jennifer, I'm sure you remember Mark?"_

"_No," she replied abruptly, showing little interest in the conversation._

"_Oh come on, you must do," her mother said, waving her 'no' away with a flurry of her hand. "You two have met quite a few times."_

"_How old was I?" Jennifer asked, with her eyebrows raised._

"_About five or six," her mother shrugged, unconcerned that neither of them would be old enough to remember this so-called meeting. "Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt," she added, looking at her daughter with meaningful eyes._

"_Actually - " Jenny began to say, but Mark saw his opportunity, and quickly seized it._

"_Actually, I was just about to try and drag your daughter up for a dance," he interrupted, flashing Jennifer a smile._

_She narrowed her eyes at him. "Actually - "_

"_Oh, well don't let me stop you," Felicity beamed, looking positively overjoyed as she shepherded her daughter over to Mark. "Go on, you two go and have fun."_

_Victoriously, Mark extended his hand to her, and with a grimace she eventually took it, although her grip on his was very slack, telling him that she'd rather be doing anything else. Not put off, he led her over to the dance floor and turned to face her._

"_Well wasn't that convenient Jennifer?" he said to her smugly as he slid one hand around her waist to rest on her lower back, and held her hand tightly with the other._

"_It's Jenny," she corrected him coldly as she reluctantly moved her hand to rest on his shoulder. "And I don't appreciate you manipulating my mother into thinking this is something more than it is."_

"_Oh?" he said as they began to waltz in time to the slow music. "I didn't realise you were so protective over her?"_

"_I'm not," she bit back, following his lead. "But if she thinks that you asked me out and I said no, I'll never hear the end of it."_

"_Well then you'll just have to go out with me then won't you?" he grinned, before he spun her lightly._

_She laughed as their hands slid back into position. "Not a chance," she said as they moved together again._

"_And why's that?" he pushed, completely unwilling to let this one go._

"_Because you know my parents," she replied, looking up at him with big eyes; brown, he noticed for the first time._

"_So?"_

"_I don't date anyone that my mother approves of," she smiled sweetly._

_He smiled back, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of that silk dress under his fingers. "And why's that?"_

"_It's more fun that way," she informed him, raising an eyebrow. _

_He spun her again skilfully, and when she fell back into his arms, he took the opportunity to pull her considerably closer to him._

"_I'll make you a deal?" he said quietly, speaking to her ear._

"_What sort of deal?" she asked suspiciously, looking up at him with narrowed eyes._

"_Well . . ." he began slowly, still leading the waltz as he quickly formulated an idea. "If I can guess what you do for a living, you've got to go out with me?" he decided, figuring that that would be pretty easy._

_She laughed softly against his ear. "And if you can't?" _

"_Then I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night," he informed her, vaguely marvelling at how enthralled he had became with this woman in such a short space of time._

_She paused, considering him for a second. "Okay," she conceded eventually. "That promise is too good to pass up."_

_He chuckled, finding her coolness towards him rather a turn on. "Right," he began, forcing his brain to focus on the task at hand. He studied her face for a moment, taking in everything about her, from her professional-looking make-up, to the way her hair was pulled back into an elegant style, with tendrils falling down softly and purposefully around her face. "Well, my first guess would be a psychologist, judging by the way your eyes aren't missing a movement I make. You study people as though you can read everything they're thinking from their body language - "_

"_Well it doesn't take Freud to work out what you're thinking right now," she interjected, her eyes twinkling. She was obviously referring to how close he had pulled her against him, although he was soothed by the fact that this time, she didn't seem to be complaining._

"_But I don't think you're a psychologist," he concluded, considering her more closely. "You're too refined for that. But you know how people tick, and you certainly know how to wrap people round your little finger . . ." _

"_You're good at this," she remarked with a slight smile as they continued dancing._

" _. . . The way you've done your make-up gives off the impression that you're used to dealing with people on a daily basis, but you prefer to keep the real you hidden from them," he continued, using every ounce of the one psychology class he had taken at Oxford to his advantage. "You use make-up like a mask to conceal your true identity - "_

"_So your next guess is Wonder Woman?" she said, looking up at him with an amused expression._

"_And finally, the way you're trying to resist me tells me your incredibly busy and don't think you have time for a relationship," he guessed. "The way you feel comfortable talking down to men means that you're a very powerful woman, but you're youth and the fact you try and hide it tells me that your employed as the face of a company. So I reckon you're in Public Relations?"_

_She smiled ruefully, her hand still gently resting around his neck. "Well deduced Sherlock," she remarked, and despite her emotional detachment, she actually looked rather impressed._

"_Thank you," he smiled, feeling elated. "So now you have to go out with me?"_

"_Not so fast," she said quickly as the music changed to another slow tune. "It's only fair that you let me have a go at guessing your occupation."_

_He laughed as he span her out again, before spinning her back into him. "Terms?" he asked, holding her flush against him._

"_Hmm . . ." she said as they fell back into a gentle rhythm again. "If I can guess it, you back off. And if I can't, you can pick me up tomorrow at seven?"_

"_Deal," he said quickly, unwilling to pass up on such an opportunity._

_She beamed at him. "Right . . ." she began slowly, her eyes flickering across his face. "Well first of all, the way you carry yourself along with your false sense of self-importance means that you're an Eton boy through and through."_

_Correct. Damn, she was also very good at this._

"_You attended a top university – Oxford I'm guessing," she continued, again correctly. "You're young, but you give off the air of someone who works hard. However, you're not happy with your job. You like the money and the flash cars, and the prestige of your position, but deep down, you wish you could just leave it all behind and go travelling. So to make up for it, you bed a multitude of woman to give you a taste of what you had when you were at university – when you didn't have any responsibility. You were shocked when I turned you down, telling me you're used to getting through life by your looks, and you do not like hearing the word 'no'. You have a lot of people working beneath you, but because of your lack of freedom and your general restlessness, you aren't quite the boss of yourself. Therefore, Eton boy, I would say that you're a Marketing Director, aspiring to be Managing Director before you're forty."_

_Mark gapped at her, completely and utterly floored._

"_Am I right?" she pushed, but by the smug look on her face, she knew the answer to that already._

_He sighed, still holding on tight to her swaying hips. "Yes," he replied reluctantly._

_She chuckled triumphantly before leaning forward and resting her cheek against his, causing his heart to flutter in his chest. "It was nice to meet you, Eton boy," she whispered into his ear, before planting a teasing kiss on his cheek._

_So entranced was he that he only registered the loss of her touch when she had long since pulled away, and was already making her way to her group of friends through the swelling crowd. He was still watching her go when his friends crashed around him, slapping him on the back joyously._

"_She turned you down?" Mitchell laughed questioningly, sounding overjoyed at the prospect that the legendary Mark Banks may be losing his touch. _

_Mark brought himself out of his dream-like state. "That gentleman," he began, pointing off in the direction that Jenny had gone, "is the woman I'm going to marry one day."_

x x x

The memory cut hard into him as he wrenched his attention back on the newly filled glass of wine in front of him. After their first meeting of course, he had all but stalked her; sending her flowers, cards and presents, willing her to change her mind. Eventually, to his complete joy, she gave up and agreed to go out on one date with him. That date rapidly turned into several, and before they both knew it, they were head-over-heels in love with each other. He sighed as he picked up his glass, taking a rather large gulp. _Why_ couldn't they get back to how it was before this new job of hers? She was being so distant with him . . . so cold . . . if he didn't know any better, he'd say she was having an affair. But that was ridiculous – she just wouldn't do that. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't slipped on a few occasions and slept with another woman, but that had mostly happened when he was away on business, and so Jen was completely oblivious. These encounters had always been with nameless women, and of course they had meant nothing, but Jenny was a hell of a lot different to him. She had more self-control than he did. Indeed, she had control over all aspects of her life, so she would never allow herself to slip like that. It just wasn't who she was. Still, he couldn't deny that something was going on. And so help him God, he needed to find out what, or else he couldn't see them making it to the altar at all.

His thoughts were stopped when he caught sight of Jenny making her way over to him, looking flushed as though she had been in a hurry.

"I'm sorry I'm late sweetheart," she said in a strained voice as she reached him, bending over and kissing him swiftly on the cheek.

As she did so, Mark caught the sharp scent of a man's aftershave on her neck, and immediately, his stomach contorted with absolute shock. No . . . she couldn't be . . . she _wouldn't_ . . .

"I got hauled into a meeting at the last minute," she explained, still sounding breathless as she took a seat opposite him. "And traffic was appalling getting here."

He watched her, still unable to control his racing heart.

_Calm down, _he thought to himself, _there could be a perfectly innocent explanation, just like there had been with my work collar and my mother's perfume. It doesn't necessarily mean she's cheating . . . _

"You look positively glowing," he remarked, referring to the general luminance that surrounded her.

She gave him a rather strained smile as the waiter appeared to pour her a wine. "Thank you," she said to the young man as he set her glass back down.

He nodded with a smile and retreated, leaving them quite alone again.

"Is it hot in here?" she asked in an uneven voice, fanning her face with her hand.

Mark shrugged, still studying every movement she made. "I feel fine. It's probably because you had to rush here."

She nodded in agreement as she took a sip of her wine.

"It'll be nice when you can finally give up that demanding job," Mark commented as he drank his own drink, testing her.

She snapped her head up, giving his a very strange look. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Well you can't seriously expect to keep working after we're married?" he continued, anticipating her reaction.

"And why not?" she gaped, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Because you'll be a corporate wife," he explained, being partially truthful in his reasoning. "If you continue working, it'll look like I can't provide for you. It'd be embarrassing for you, and for me. And besides, you'll be too busy planning functions and looking after the kids to be able to go to work."

"Please tell me you're joking?" she asked in incredulity, looking completely blindsided.

"No," he answered simply, as he picked up his menu. "I think I feel like a steak tonight," he added, tactfully changing the subject.

"Hang on a minute," she hissed, snatching the menu away from his face. "Let me make something perfectly clear – there is no way I'm giving up my job. Not for anything."

"Well if you want to work, you can get a part time job doing something," he shrugged. "That way, it's a compromise."

"No Mark!" she snapped, looking extremely angry at his piece of news. "I'm happy at the job I'm in now. And if you want me to give it up, then you can go to hell."

"What's so special about this job, hmm?" he demanded, leaning forward so that other people wouldn't hear his raised voice. "Why are you so reluctant to leave it?"

She didn't answer, but instead sat back, glaring at him. Although behind the depths of those brown eyes, he saw a flicker of fear there – as though she knew he was getting close to a possessively guarded secret. Oh God, it was someone from her work she was seeing . . .

"Let's just order shall we?" she said coldly, picking up her menu.

"Fine," he said with a sniff as he snatched his own up off the table.

They ate their meal in a suffocating silence, so toxic that Mark actually struggled to chew his steak. He barely concentrated on what he was putting into his mouth, so absorbed was he at trying to figure out what the hell he should do now. When he asked for the bill, Jenny thankfully excused herself to go to the bathroom, giving Mark a very welcomed slot of time alone. He watched her go, ensuring she was out of ear-shot before he fished inside his jacket pocket for his mobile. He dialled and held the phone up to his ear, still desperately hoping he was wrong about the whole thing . . .

"Hello?" the voice of one of Mark's best friends said.

"Hi Pete, it's Mark," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm just calling to see if you've still got the number for that Private Detective you told me about?"

"Um . . . I think so, why?" Pete asked, sounding taken aback.

"I think someone's been playing me for a fool," Mark replied cryptically, his eyes trained on the bathroom door to ensure that Jen wouldn't overhear. "And I need to find out, one way or another."


	15. Just another day at the office

**Cannot wait until this dissertation is all done and dusted in two weeks! Then I can spend less time worrying about how the liver metabolises drugs, and more time writing :D yey! x**

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* * *

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Chapter 15

Jenny sat in her office midweek, absently turning her engagement ring round and round on her finger as her thoughts once again wandered away from her work. It had been a slow and supremely dull week, with no anomaly alerts to liven things up, nor any more liaisons with Cutter to fill the achingly empty hole that was rapidly growing in her own crumbling relationship with Mark. After their argument at the restaurant, Mark had barely even glanced in her direction, let alone spoke to her. Vaguely, she thought that maybe his freeze out should be bothering her more than it actually was, which only further emphasised how disintegrated their relationship was. In truth, she was actually enjoying the peace and quiet of him not constantly asking her what was wrong, or demanding to know where she had been - or even worse, trying to illicit something physical between them, which she had been rapidly running out of reasons to avoid.

She sighed deeply and glanced down at her ring, noticing how beautiful it was as it glinting at her in the fake ARC lighting. It used to make her beam with pride whenever she caught sight of it, knowing that it was a token of her and Mark's bright future together. But now it was more of a painful reminder of her continuing betrayal, and even worse, a symbol of how suffocated and trapped she felt in the life she had once dreamt having.

She jumped suddenly as the blaring sound of the anomaly detector spilled into the room, the bright lights of the alarm casting a sallow red glow in the corridor outside. Breathing irregularly in the usual shock and making a mental note to tell Connor to turn the bloody alarm down, she hurriedly got to her feet and made her way to the main room. Half way down the corridor, she ran into Cutter and Stephen, who were emerging from the formers office. Immediately, Jenny averted her gaze from Cutter's, not trusting her eyes to conceal their intimate secret whenever they were around other people, in particularly someone as shrewd as Stephen. They were always very careful to be overly cool with each other at work, least the rest of the team catch on to them – that would be the last thing they needed.

"Where is it?" she asked, speaking to Cutter in her head but ensuring that she looked at Stephen as they walked towards the exit.

"We're not sure," Cutter replied curtly, his eyes set straight ahead of him. "The anomaly closed before we could get the exact co-ordinates. It's somewhere on the Isle of Dogs."

Jenny huffed, feeling a prickle of annoyance. "So what, we're just going for kicks are we?"

"Well, Leek said it's in the same place a boy went missing earlier today," Stephen explained as they neared the exit. "So we need to see if the two incidences are related."

"Right, I'm on it," Jenny said abruptly as she flipped her mobile open, having heard enough to convince her that it was time to work a bit of PR magic.

* * *

Jenny snapped her phone shut and glanced at Cutter and Stephen as they crouched down, examining a suspiciously open grid in the middle of a soggy field. "The boys name is Lucien Hope," Jenny informed them, trying to focus on the situation at hand instead of on the rather lovely sight of Nick bending over in those remarkably tight pants. "His friends said he seemed to be struggling with something."

"Did they see anything?" Cutter asked shortly, his tone displaying the usual tenseness it did when he was deep in thought.

"No," she replied as she adjusted the layers of her red scarf that ruffled in the breeze, still unconvinced that the missing boy had anything to do with them.

"Maybe he just lost his footing?" Stephen suggested, echoing Jenny's scepticism that the two issues were related.

"No, this lids been lifted clean off," Cutter pointed out, as usual displaying his annoying habit of belittling everyone else's ideas in favour of his own.

"Water pressure?" Jenny chimed in.

He glanced up at her for the first time, looking slightly impressed that she would hazard a scientific guess. "Maybe," he said fairly, focusing his attention back to the grid. "But the water fall's been below average for the month, and floods don't happen for no reason. Which means . . ." he paused, as though formulating an answer, ". . . the anomaly's under water," he concluded glumly, sounding reassuringly confident in his assumption.

Jenny sighed and knocked her mobile restlessly against her thigh, unwillingly accepting the fact that Cutter was probably right, as per bloody usual.

"Where does this drain go?" he asked, his gaze flickering up to her again.

"Back to the canal," she stated coolly, having checked that particular fact herself as soon as she had finished speaking to the missing boys friends.

Cutter nodded and remained silent for a moment, clearly thinking hard. "Seal it off, and tell Abby and Connor to meet us on the other side," he said to her eventually.

"Okay," she agreed softly as turned away from them and flipped her mobile open again.

As she walked away carefully through the muddy field with the ringing tone repeating loudly in her ear, she half-glanced back, noticing that Cutter was watching her go with distracted expression. Stephen said something from beside him, and he seemed to remember himself and look back at the grid, his face furrowed in avid concentration.

* * *

The blasting wind was rapidly picking up, causing the water to lap against the side of the wooden pier, and judging by the deep greyness of the moody-looking sky, it wouldn't be long before it started pelting down icy rain. Suppressing a shiver, Cutter accepted the safety jacket off Stephen with a grateful nod, and swiftly pulled it on over his head.

"Abby and Connor are here," Jenny's voice floated over as she walked up beside them, hugging her arms around herself in the chill. "They're loading the boats now."

"Great," Cutter said absently, distracted as he secured his life jacket.

"Where's mine?" Jenny asked sternly, her hands on her hips and her gaze fixed on the red jacket.

Cutter chuckled slightly with a half-glance around at an amused-looking Stephen. "You're not coming," he pointed out to her.

"And why not?" she snapped, clearly annoyed as she folded her arms tightly under her chest.

Cutter turned to face her, not in the slightest bit threatened by that haughty PR tone, despite the fact she rarely used it around him anymore. "Because it's not what you're paid for," he said, meeting her in the eye and quickly batting away the excited squirm in his stomach.

She stared back, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Well I don't see how that's any of your business – does my salary go into your bank account?"

He smiled at her sarcastic reaction, which was purely Jenny. "No," he stated fairly. "But it's not your job to be tracking creatures. It's your job to keep the public sweet."

"Oh I don't need career advice from you Cutter," she stated hotly, stepping closer to him. "Now you can either give me a life jacket, or I'll manage without."

He looked down at her for a moment, still vaguely amused by her persistence, but at the same time slightly annoyed at her constant need to interfere. She stared back up at him expectantly, still in a dangerously close proximity to him, making him uneasy – the only occasions when they were this close these days involved them being far more engrossed in other matters that were supremely more satisfying than arguing . . .

"Fine," he stated curtly as he gestured for Stephen to hand him over another lift jacket. He took it off him and thrust it into her hands. "Just stay out the way of the real work okay?" he added daringly, earning him a glare of her as she pulled the jacket over her head.

"I promise not to get in the way of your little Boy Scouts operation," she said in a snarky tone as she adjusted the straps of her life jacket.

Stephen chuckled slightly at her comment as he shouldered a bag of equipment, before walking off to join Abby and Connor at the boats. When Cutter was sure he was out of sight, he turned to Jenny and quickly reached forward to tighten the cord of her jacket, earning him a suppressed smile off her.

"Be careful," he murmured, as he dropped his arms back down by his side.

She rolled her eyes as she backed away from him, making to follow Stephen down the wooden wharf. "Aren't I always?" she mouthed back with wink, before she turned and sauntered off, her boots clicking loudly on the planks.

Chuckling to himself, Cutter bent down and picked up the last bag of equipment, but as he straightened up, a strange flash of light caught his eye from the road opposite. Puzzled, he glanced around and immediately spotted the source – with a sickening lurch, he saw that there was someone pointing a camera at him.

_Strange_, Cutter thought to himself as he squinted to better make out the figure.

It was definitely a man; rather short and skinny, with dark gelled-back hair. As Cutter watched him, the guy swiftly turned and pointed his camera to the left, snapping a picture of something off into the distance.

_Must just be a tourist_, Cutter concluded as he followed Jenny back down to the boats. But as he caught up to them all and started issuing his orders, he couldn't help but notice the slight rush of uneasiness that flooded the pit of his stomach.


	16. Hot date

Chapter 16

Jenny huffed to herself impatiently as the cold winter night drew in rapidly, the faint icy drizzle from the blackened sky making her substantially colder, wetter and moodier than before. Their boat chugged along the glass-like water, casting gentle ripples across it, so dark that even the faint light from Abby's light was doing little to break into its blackness. Running her hand gingerly over her damp hair, Jenny wondered how much of a mess she looked after hours of fruitlessly revolving round and round the canal, looking for a creature that she was rapidly concluding only existed in Cutter's mind. Sighing, she glanced around into the night and squinted off into the distance, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of Cutter's boat. They'd clearly gone out of sight. Biting her moist lip, she focused her attention back on the watery depths below, vaguely wishing she'd been assigned to Cutter's boat instead of being stuck with Abby and Connor. It wasn't that she didn't like them of course, but judging by the brittle atmosphere, it was clear that they were in the middle of an argument or something, which made her more than a bit uncomfortable. Not that she really cared what was going on between the two them; she had enough problems of her own to worry about, and quite frankly, sorting out her colleagues love lives scored very low on her agenda.

"Back up, I saw something," Abby hissed at Connor, making Jenny turn her attention back to the water.

"Where?" Connor said urgently, his hand controlling the boats direction.

"That way, port, about twenty metres," she replied in a hushed voice, focusing her light in the water.

Jenny peered over curiously as Connor followed her directions. However, they had barely gone a few feet when Abby huffed. "I said port!"

"This is port!" Connor protested, perhaps a little angrier than was really necessary.

"Well starboard then!" Abby shouted, looking furious herself. "Right - just go before it disappears!"

"How am I meant to know which direction to steer if you don't know which way's which?" Connor exclaimed whilst Jenny shook her head in aspiration, laughing humourlessly at the fact that they were jeopardising the whole bloody operation with this stupid feud.

Abby scowled loudly and bent over the side of the boat again, her eyes searching the surface. "Oh, I've lost it now!" she hissed, shooting Connor a look of loathing.

"Oh great! Just great!" Connor huffed, flinging his arms in the air in frustration. "Tell you what, why don't you just give me a go?"

"What can you see that I can't?" Abby snapped, looking deeply offended.

"Well maybe if you pass me the - " Connor began, but Jenny cut him off, having had enough of all the pointless high school drama.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" she yelled, completely losing her temper. "You two are arguing like a couple of kids over a toy! Look, out of the way," she ordered, pushing Connor aside, knowing that if one wants a job done right, they must do it themselves. "I'll do it."

She reached over with the intention of taking the lamp off Abby, but before she could, the boat unexpectedly jolted under her feet. Her heart palpitated as she staggered and lost her footing, and she felt herself tumbling backwards. Before she had even comprehended what had happened, she hit the icy cold canal hard, the rank odour and taste of the foul water consuming her as she was plunged into darkness.

* * *

It was confusion that Cutter felt first when he heard the screams and shouts that sounded far off in the distance. He and Stephen had been in the process of examining what looked like a piece of mammalian skin they had fished out of the canal when a piercing scream echoed through the crisp night air.

"What the hell was that?" Stephen frowned as he squinted out into the distance.

Cutter lowered the skin, straining his ears to try and pick up on the sound again. It was when another distinctly louder scream echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings that he realised that it was Jenny's distressed call he was hearing. Sure that his heart actually stopped beating for a moment, Cutter dropped the skin in panic and jumped to his feet, turning round to the man driving their boat.

"GO!" he barked at him, blood pounding in his ears.

The man obeyed immediately, abruptly turning their boat in a sharp u-turn and taking off at top speed across the water.

"She's probably just fallen in," Stephen suggested as the wind whipped in their faces harshly.

Shouts that clearly belonged to Connor floated over to them, sounding panicked.

"It doesn't sound like that to me," Cutter replied sharply, straining his eyes to try and see what the hell was going on.

Seconds past painfully slow as the boat came into view. Connor and Abby were bent over the side, calling persistently and gesturing frantically with their hands. Immediately, Cutter spotted Jenny in the murky water, but that wasn't what made his stomach disappear with pure terror. No, it was the sight of the ominous fin that sailed through the water not twenty feet behind her, slowly but surely gaining speed. Stephen yelled at the boat man to get over there before routing around for the gun case near his feet. Smoothly, he pulled a rifle out and took aim, firing rapidly at the approaching predator as their boat sailed closer to the scene.

"Come on Jenny, here!" Quickly!" Cutter barked, reaching out to her.

She extended her arms, and he grasped her firmly, using all his strength to haul her up. Her sodden clothes made it very difficult to maintain a proper grip on her; but somehow, he managed to pull her haphazardly into the boat. They fell in a heap together, both panting irregularly as Abby and Connor whooped and cheered at Stephen.

"Get the body back to the ARC a.s.a.p," Stephen ordered to the ARC back-up from what seemed like a great distance away.

As Cutter's heart rate began to slow back down, he noticed that Jenny was shaking violently in his arms, whether from the freezing cold water or the sheer shock of nearly being eaten, he was unsure. He held her close to comfort her and she tugged at his shirt with trembling hands and buried her face into him, all thoughts of keeping their distance from each other in company forgotten in a haze of relief.

"You're alright," Cutter whispered to her gently as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. "You're alright."

She shrank into him further, shock clearly having robbed her of the ability to speak. As the boat began moving, Cutter saw Stephen glance round at them both entwined together, but he said nothing, and kept his eyes averted from them the entire journey back to dry land.

* * *

The dead shark hung grimly in the ARC's main room, swaying ominously, still as intimidating to behold as it was when it was alive. Cutter gulped slightly, not allowing himself to comprehend what that monster would have done to Jenny if Stephen hadn't managed to bring it down. It didn't bare thinking about. Looking away from the creature, he noticed with a pang that Jenny was leaning on the railing above, her eyes glazed over as though she was in deep thought, although her gaze was fixed on the horrific sight of the shark's corpse, unfocused and unblinking. Feeling a rush of sympathy towards her, Cutter made his way up the ramp, having not being able to speak any words of comfort to her since he had pulled her out of the water.

As he approached, he saw her shoulders tense, as though she was bracing herself.

"So how are you doing?" he asked her lamely, unable to summon up a more eloquent greeting.

"Three months ago, my idea of a life and death issue was getting front row seats at London fashion week," she said ruefully, before turning to him with a sad smile. "How do you think I'm doing?"

He paused for a moment, rather taken aback by her appearance now that he was close up. Not once in all the time he'd know her had he ever seen her without her make-up on, nor without her hair vigorously pruned to perfection. Now however, her hair flowed down across her back, and her face was fresh from every scrap of make-up. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, and with a jolt he realised that it was because she now looked _identical _to Claudia. It had been much simpler to see Jenny as a different person with her PR mask on, but now . . .

"You don't have to do this," he pointed out, not liking the flicker of helplessness he saw stirring behind the depths of those usually composed eyes. "You could quit?"

She laughed coldly, her gaze still fixed on the monster dangling below them. "I think I'll take my chances," she stated with a self-assured nod, as though she was trying to convince herself of her capability to handle it rather than persuade him.

Cutter glanced around the ARC main room briefly, and when satisfied that they were quite alone, he reached his hand forward cautiously and rested it on her arm. "Come here," he whispered, gesturing for her to move closer to him.

He half-expected her to refuse and shrink away from him, public displays of affection not being in her nature, and less so considering the circumstances. But to his surprise, she leaned into him immediately and rested her forehead on her shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Nick . . ."

"I know," he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "But you're safe now."

"Yes, until your next little hunch," she stated in a blunt tone, although she didn't move away, telling him that she didn't really blame him.

He planted a kiss in her hair, losing himself in the sweet smell of her perfume. It was probably that exhilarating scent that caused him to make a grave mistake.

"Look Claudia - " he began, but he stopped himself immediately, knowing that he had let the forbidden name slip from his lips, so shocked was he at Jenny's uncanny resemblance to his lost love for the first time in this strange new world.

She stiffened in his arms, and he froze also, the realisation of what he'd said only setting in when it was too late. She pushed him away, shaking her head and laughing in incredulity.

"I'm – I'm so sorry," Cutter stammered, his pulse racing. "Jenny. _Jenny_."

She leant forward on the railing again and composed herself, setting her gaze out at the corpse of the shark again. "Do you know what – it's fine," she stated coldly, her jaw set. "I'm well aware of our arrangement. You see me as her. That's fine."

"No – that's not it - " he tried to explain, but she shook her head and forced him into silence.

"Cutter – it's fine. I don't care," she interrupted unconvincingly as she turned to face him, a fake smile hitched on her face. "We both know what this is. Let's just keep it that way, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was testing him – if she wanted him to correct her. It was when she rested her head in her hand and his eyes fell on her sparkling engagement ring that words failed him. _What was the point?_

"Okay," he nodded, conceding on the subject for the time being.

She gave him an aspirated smile and inhaled slowly, as though she was pulling herself together.

"Does your fiancé . . ." Cutter began, hating bringing Mark up in the conversation, but feeling a pulse of curiosity about him all the same, "does – does he not have any clue about what you're doing?"

Jenny sighed and shifted her gaze away from him, looking extremely uncomfortable. "He knows I'm working for the Government. That's all. Luckily, he's not very . . ." she paused, looking as though she was unsure about how to phrase it, "_curious_ . . ." she landed on eventually, raising an eyebrow. "Not about my work anyway," she added, with a small resigned smile.

Cutter returned her smile with a sympathetic one of his own, knowing that it was the first time she had opened up about her home life to him, and appreciating that she now seemed to trust him enough to let him in a little, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

"What about you?" she asked unexpectedly in a much stronger voice with a waning smile. "Do you have . . . someone?" she added in a tone that didn't quite conceal the curiosity behind it. "After all, you _are_ a free agent."

"Um, no," Cutter admitted truthfully, suppressing a grin that she would show any interest in his love life when she had made it perfectly clear that their relationship was strictly casual. "I'm not very good at that. My wife left me eight and a half years ago to travel through the anomalies, and the next woman that I liked, she - " he cut himself off, knowing that he would have to have some sort of death wish to mention Claudia again in the conversation. "She left," he said simply. "Yes, I don't seem to be a particularly romantic proposition at the moment," he added with an amused grin.

She laughed and fixed him with a look that clearly said she didn't quite agree with him on that point.

Feeling relatively cheered, he thought he was best quitting whilst he was ahead. "And on that note, if you'll excuse me, I have a hot date with a dead shark."

She laughed again, looking in a much better mood than when he had found her. He squeezed her arm and daringly pecked her on the lips before turning and walking off down the ramp.

* * *

Stephen shrank back into the shadows, watching the scene in front of him unfold with his eyes narrowed. He had strode into the main room, ready to start on the autopsy, but as soon as his eyes fell on Cutter and Jenny embracing on the balcony above, he froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

_Cutter and Jenny?_

No – they couldn't be . . . Jenny was engaged, and Cutter - Cutter _wouldn't_ . . . not after he had found out about Stephen's affair with Helen. He was far too noble to ever have an affair with a woman who was taken – not after how much he himself had been hurt by such an act. That aside, the two seemed to loath each other half of the time, and the other half, they seemed indifferent to each other. Surely he was misinterpreting what he was seeing . . .

But as he continued watching, he saw them exchange a few words, their proximity to each other giving off a certain air of sensuality that was discernable even from a distance. And then, with a sickening lurch, Stephen watched as Cutter leaned in and kissed her, and by the easy intimacy between them, it was clearly not the first time.

Disgusted, Stephen withdrew back into the corridor and stormed off towards the gym again, needing to calm himself down otherwise he knew he'd end up saying something he'd later regret to his hypocritical friend.


	17. Fired

**Sorry it's been so long, I've had soooo much work to get in, and then it was my 21****st**** (I'm old *sobs*) so I haven't had time to update. But I've got about a week free until I need to start revision, so that should change.**

**Hope you read and enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 17

The following day, Jenny found herself pacing around her office, her mobile glued to her ear as she tried to convince some dunce at the environmental health agency that there had been a chemical leak in the canal, all the better to concoct a cover story for the press. She was right in the middle of justifying government involvement when her office door opened behind her. Glancing around, to her slight surprise, she saw that it was Lester, his expression contorted in uncharacteristic concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved her hand dismissively, indicating that she was on the phone, but far from taking the hint, he stepped deeper into her office.

"This can't wait Jenny," he said, his usually abrupt tone not quite covering the definite edge in his voice.

Grumbling internally about what on earth Cutter had got himself into at the anomaly site, she swiftly made her excuses to the rather harassed-sounding woman on the other end of the phone before hanging up, raising a questioning eyebrow at Lester. However, now that she was off the phone, he no longer seemed as keen to let her in the loop, and spent a few moments fiddling with the cuffs of his blazer, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Jenny pushed, feeling a small prickle of fear – if whatever it was had rattled a usually uncaring snob like Lester, it must be bad.

He fixed her with a stare that was abnormally soft. "Something's happened. At the anomaly site."

With a rush of dread, her mind automatically jumped to the conclusion that one of Nick's typical suicidal missions had gone horribly wrong.

"What? What's happened?" she demanded, her wide eyes searching her boss's professional expression. "Is it Cutter? Is he - ?"

"It's not Cutter," Lester interrupted with a curt shake of his head. "It's the girl."

Jenny frowned. "Abby?" she said, feeling a tiny pulse of relief that Cutter was unharmed, which was immediately replaced by confusion. "Well, what about her?"

"She's dead," Lester replied shortly, his gaze set in the floor.

Jenny felt her stomach clench tightly at his sharp words. "What?" she gaped, not able to digest what he was telling her. "No, she can't be - "

"Let's discuss the girl's mortality on the drive down shall we?" he interrupted, half turning away from her. "This calls for some serious damage control. And last time I checked, that was we're paying you for?"

He gestured to the door, indicating that she was to leave with him, and she numbly obliged, grabbing her blazer jacket from the chair as she walked unsteadily towards him.

* * *

Jenny pulled up outside Abby's flat, glancing around at a completely grief-stricken Connor in the passenger seat.

"Are you okay?" she said as softly as she could, her sympathy for his sorrow completely disregarding the professional facade she usually displayed around the rest of the team.

He didn't answer, but only stared straight ahead numbly, his eyes red and puffy as though he had been crying none stop for hours.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" she asked, gently resting her hand on his arm.

Her touch seemed to bring him out of his stupor, and he glanced around at her, fresh tears glistening in his eyes. "No," he answered eventually, his voice sounding faint and scratched.

"Are you sure?" she questioned, squeezing his arm in a gesture of comfort.

Her sympathy must have been too much for him to bear, as to her horror, he broke down again, his face buried in his hands, and muffled, heart-wrenching sobs filling her car.

"Connor - " she began, not really knowing what she was going to say but feeling the need to fill the silence anyway.

But before she could think of some small words of comfort, he had suddenly leaned into her and before she knew it, he was sobbing uncontrollably on her shoulder. She froze for a second, rather unsure of what to do – she had never been very good at consoling grieving people, and even less so with people she barely knew. Eventually, she put her arms around him and patted him clumsily on the back.

To her intense relief, he pulled back not long after, and with a sniff, he undid his seatbelt. "Thanks," he mumbled, giving her a small watery smile before swiftly getting out of the car, and making her way to the door.

Squashing the little niggling thought that she should indeed have accompanied him into the flat and sat with him for a little while, she pulled the car away with the intent of returning to the anomaly sight, reasoning that she'd be more use there than anywhere else.

* * *

Jenny arrived back at the canal, and as she parked up, she cast her eye around to see a few boats on the water, and with a squint, she deduced that one of the figures on the boat was Stephen, who seemed to be issuing orders at someone and pointing into the water.

She got out of the car and made her way over to where Lester was gathered with Leek and a few military men.

" . . . the whole area needs to be searched again. We need to find the thing and get the girl's body back to give to the family," Lester was saying to a soldier, his detached tone making Jenny's stomach squirm uncomfortably – was that how emotionless she sounded sometimes? "Ahh Jenny," Lester added, glancing around at her as the soldiers trotted back to their boat. "Is the boy out of the way?"

"Yes," she replied coldly, wondering if there was a caring bone in her boss's body.

"Excellent," he nodded, before turning to Leek and addressing him in a far more condescending voice. "Don't you have a remote control submarine to get your hands on, or do you want me to strap a camera to my head and dive down there myself?"

"Of – of course Sir," Leek stammered as he backed away. "I'll get one right now . . ." he scurried off, leaving Jenny and Lester quite alone.

"You know, one day I will get the opportunity to hire people who aren't complete idiots or head-strong mavericks," Lester said longingly, more to himself than Jenny. "And speaking of which," he added, looking around at her. "Stephen's in charge of this operation. I'll leave you here to supervise."

Jenny narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Stephen?" she repeated suspiciously. "Why not Cutter?"

"Cutter's fired," Lester said slowly, as though he was relishing every syllable. "And I thought this day was going to be a total loss."

"Fired?" Jenny exclaimed, feeling a sickening swooping sensation in her stomach. "Why?" she demanded, unable to keep her horror at the notion under control.

"Because he's finally succeeded in doing what he's been threatening to do from the beginning – getting one of the team killed," Lester answered abruptly. "And I for one will sleep more soundly at night knowing he can't interfere anymore."

"But you - you can't do that," Jenny stammered, feeling panicked at the thought of not being able to see Cutter every day. And that aside, she knew how much this job meant to him, and she couldn't stand the thought of him forced out of the project he loved.

"Of course I can," Lester shrugged. "I'm just glad I had the happy task of dismissing him, and not the Minister. It's like Christmas come early."

"But we need him!" Jenny persisted, knowing that in her head she meant_ 'I need him'_.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Lester replied in an uncaring tone as he buttoned up his blazer. "And come to think of it, I can't remember you being Cutter's biggest fan?"

"I'm not," she replied hastily, not wanting him to pry too much into her relationship with her colleague, least he discover how deeply her feelings went. "I'm just thinking about the team. They all work best with him here – you know that."

"Well I'm sure they'll adapt," Lester shrugged again as he turned to leave. "Call me the minute you find anything."

Jenny opened her mouth to argue Cutter's corner some more, but before she could formulate any words, Lester was already on his way to his overly-showy car, practically skipping in his joy at the idea of finally getting rid of Cutter.


	18. Torn loyalties

Chapter 18

Cutter rubbed his hands over the back of his neck and exhaled shakily, his gaze cast unseeingly out into the water that was rippling innocently in the gentle breeze. He closed his eyes against his painfully throbbing heart, guilt and his own grief at the loss of Abby both fighting for top billing. Every time he remembered the looks on the rest of the team's faces, he sunk a little deeper into depression. Connor had looked disgusted at him; as though he would never forgive him for his error in judgment, and rightly so in Cutters opinion. He would willingly shoulder all of the blame for this one, as he was well aware that it was all his fault. And Stephen – well, Stephen had been off with Cutter all day for reasons that he neither knew, nor really cared about given the current circumstances. But it was hard not to notice the blind fury that had radiated off him, and Cutter wasn't a fool as to why. Stephen was very fond of Abby, and whilst he had clearly lost out in the romantic stakes with her after his affair with Helen was revealed, it was obvious that his affection for her still ran deep. Lester had of course left no interpretation needed on his opinion on the matter, and had looked angrier than Cutter had ever seen him. Usually, he casually brushed aside the fatalities that the anomalies caused, clearly believing that the rising death toll of both civilians and soldiers alike was just a drop in the water compared to the importance of keeping the anomalies a secret from the public. But he seemed to be taking the loss of Abby much more personally, probably because he felt a very reluctant obligation to the team, and so shouldered some of the responsibility for her death. Either way, he had clearly lost any faith he had in Cutter's ability to lead the team, and had now handed over the responsibility to Stephen, who in Cutter's opinion, certainly wasn't up to the task. For one, he was looking for the creature in the wrong place, and on a wider scale, he had some very controversial views on the public's knowledge of the anomalies, and Cutter couldn't help but fear what he would do if he was given more power on the project. Cutter sighed again as he remembered how the government officials had marched down the peer, their expression's set and stony. Cutter's gaze had been drawn to one face in particular; Jenny usually maintained a detached and uncaring persona at work, so careful was she at concealing her emotions in front of her colleagues. But when she had stopped in front of him, and Lester had began his guilt-racking rant, Cutter noticed a flicker of disappointment in her eyes; like by allowing something to happen to Abby, he hadn't lived up to her expectations.

His heart heavy, Cutter turned and slowly walked back to the car, figuring that sitting and stewing over everything wasn't going to do anyone any good. The least he could do for Abby's memory was to find the creature that killed her, and stop it hurting anyone else – she would have wanted that. He rested the palms of his hands on the bonnet of the car, and again studied that map he had rested there, determined to find something that they were missing – some place that the creature may be hiding.

"You're not supposed to be here," Jenny's voice said in a mock-chiding tone.

He glanced up, feeling a familiar burning sensation of guilt in his stomach – he was too ashamed to be around the rest of the team; he didn't deserve their company, and the thought of being subjected to all those hostile and judging eyes was too much to bare.

"Well where else am I going to go?" he asked coldly, masking his shame in a cloud of enmity.

"I could have you thrown out," she pointed out, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"Yes, you could," he challenged her, doubting her ability to do so with their relationship the way it was.

She looked at him for a moment, a slight smile tugging at her lips, telling him that she was teasing. With a slight twinge of relief, he noticed that her eyes were warm, and not brimming with disappointment like he expected. It soothed him a little.

"I thought you might be interested in this," she said as she pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. He opened it, and read the address written on it curiously. "A local builder had logged a complaint," she informed him. "He can't get in to demolish an old warehouse because the basement flooded in the tidal surge."

Cutter snapped his head up to look at her, feeling a niggle of excitement – a tidal surge? That would have happened when the anomaly opened. Maybe this was exactly the lead that he had been looking for.

"Maybe you were right," Jenny continued, tilting her head to the side. "Maybe we were looking for the creatures in the wrong place. At the very least, it's definitely worth checking out."

He stared at her for a second, feeling rather touched that she would come to him with this information instead of taking it to Stephen or Lester like she was supposed to. It wasn't like her to do things behind Lester's back, and even less like her to show loyalty to Cutter over him. This was something that Claudia would have done for him, had the same situation arisen in the old world.

"Hey," Cutter said as she turned to leave, halting her in her tracks. "As petty minded bureaucrats go – you're the best."

She chuckled, clearly not taking offence as she stepped closer to him.

"You know," she began wistfully in a hushed voice. "I've got a dress fitting tonight with my mother. But I was thinking that I could pop round to yours after it? I mean, Mark's away for the weekend so I wouldn't have to rush off. Maybe we could talk? I know I don't give off that impression, but I'm a good listener."

He smiled, moved that she thought enough about him to offer him an ear to chew off.

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

She flashed him another dazzling smile before turning to leave, clearly returning to her post supervising Stephen. Cutter watched her go, a reluctant balloon of happiness swelling up in his stomach. He knew that he didn't deserve to feel anything but guilt after losing Abby, but he couldn't help it – the idea that he had Jenny watching his back was too nice a thought to disregard.

* * *

**This was more of a bridging chapter before we get onto the real story, but I hope you enjoyed anyway x**


	19. The bridal shop

Chapter 19

Panting heavily and feeling a tad flustered under her black suit, Jenny pulled open the door to the bridal shop, groaning at the exertion of the weight of it. As she entered the shop rather ungracefully, her mother and the sales lady looked round from what looked like a deep conversation about the overly-lacy dress hanging beside them.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Jenny apologised when her mother raised a disapproving eyebrow. "The traffic was terrible," she lied, reasoning that 'I had to sort out a kidnapping by a future creature' would be unlikely to go down very well.

"Of course," her mother said coldly, before turning back to the sales woman. "And this dress is hideous," she barked at her. "I won't have my daughter walking down the aisle looking like a giant doily . . ."

Sighing inwardly, Jenny shrugged off her blazer and perched down on the seat, feeling too drained to give any input in the conversation. Quite frankly, she didn't give a toss about what sort of wedding dress she was going to have, especially not after the day she'd had. It had all turned out well in the end of course – they managed to get both Abby and the boy back safely, as well as containing the creatures. But still, the incident had required every ounce of PR magic she possessed to clean up after, and she could really do without having to fruitlessly try on a zillion dresses and parading them around in front of her overly-picky mother. Still, she reasoned with herself, it would only be a few hours of hell until she could escape off to see Cutter. Suppressing a smile at the thought of a liaison without the usually imposed time limit of Mark, Jenny pulled her bag towards her and fished inside it for her mobile, wanting to text Cutter whilst her mum was conveniently distracted by her favourite pass time of verbally berating sales people.

_I'll be at yours about 8:30, so get the wine ready. Jenny x_

Smiling, she snapped the phone shut, a familiar excited sensation emanating from her midriff.

"What are you so happy about?" her mother's voice said suddenly, pulling her out of her daydream.

"Nothing," Jenny replied hurriedly, placing her mobile down on the seat next to her.

"Who were you texting?" her mother persisted, sounding slightly suspicious.

"_No-one_ mother," Jenny replied through gritted teeth, slightly aspirated as she accepted a glass of champagne off another sales assistant. "Now let's see some dresses shall we?" she added as she stood up, straightening out her skirt as she did so.

"Hmm," her mother said, looking her up and down. For some reason, this always made Jenny feel like she was being examined under a microscope. "Yes, well in your absence, I took the liberty of lining up a few dozen dresses for you to try on."

"Great," Jenny said, giving her best fake smile.

As her mother turned back to the now-quivering sales woman, Jenny took the opportunity to down her glass of champagne, reasoning that it would make the next few hours a hell of a lot more bearable.

* * *

Felicity Lewis jiggled her foot as she sat on the fake-leather couch, waiting impatiently for her daughter to change into the tenth dress of the day. Sipping the rancid champagne the shop insisted on serving and shuddering at the taste, she glanced up at the curtain as the figure behind it moved slightly.

"How does it look Jennifer?" Felicity shouted over to her, setting her glass down on the table.

"Like a bloody circus tent!" Jennifer shouted back insolently.

"Watch your language!" Felicity snapped indignantly. "Do you want me to come in and see it?"

"No," she sighed back. "No one else on this planet will _ever_ see me in this dress."

"Fine," Felicity huffed, picking her glass up again and crossing her legs tightly. "Just move on to the next one."

"Mum, I really have to go," Jennifer simpered, sounding frustrated. "I've got somewhere I have to be."

"And where's that?" Felicity questioned. "I thought Mark was away in Japan this weekend?"

"He is," Jennifer said in a suspiciously hurried voice. "I – I have to go and see a friend."

"A friend?" she repeated coldly.

"Yes mother – a friend," Jennifer repeated, sounding flustered. "Why, am I not allowed to have friends?"

"Oh stop acting like a petulant child Jennifer," Felicity scoffed. "Just try on the next dress."

A sigh could be heard issuing from behind the curtain, but the girl didn't seem to want to argue any further, and a moment later, the sound of unzipping could be heard.

Tapping her heavily manicured fingernails against the cheap glass in her hand, Felicity cast her glance around the place, half convinced that they should have hired a private dress-maker instead of having to resort to shop bought dresses. Still, Jennifer had insisted upon the place, it having a supposed reputation for its beautiful attire.

Suddenly, Jennifer's mobile vibrated violently on the couch next to her, making her jump slightly. Squinting down at the screen, Felicity read that it was a text message . . .

Off someone named 'Cutter'.

Glancing up to check that Jennifer was still behind the curtain with the sales woman, Felicity snatched up the phone and flipped it open quietly. Jennifer had been acting very oddly lately, and it was clear that she was up to something. And Felicity was determined to find out what.

* * *

Jenny looked in the mirror and turned to the side, smoothing her hands over her chest and stomach. The dress she was currently trying on was definitely a contender; it was not overly-extravagant nor overly-puffy like the formers, but much more classic and simple, with a white bodice that highlighted her curves without looking tacky.

"You look beautiful," the sales assistant beamed, looking at her in the mirror. "I think this is the one for you."

"Perhaps," Jenny said, putting her hands on her hips and scrutinising herself more closely.

"We've got a few more you could try on in a similar style if you would like?" the woman suggested hopefully.

Before Jenny could reply, the curtain was ripped open from behind them, and in the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her mother's reflection, her expression looking livid.

"Leave us," she ordered to the sales woman sternly, waving her hand to dismiss her.

The woman obeyed immediately and scurried away, leaving them both quite alone. Jenny turned round, slightly confused at her mother's swift change in mood.

"Do you think a veil would be too much with this, or - ?" Jenny began to ask, but she was cut off completely as her mother strode up to her, and slapped her painfully across the face.

Her head flew to the side, and for a split second, the stinging sensation on her cheek caused her to lose all train of thought. When she eventually regained herself, she turned back to her mother, her mouth open in shock.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" she exclaimed, running her hand over her still aching cheek.

"I think you know what it's for!" her mother snarled back, looking angrier than Jenny had ever seen her.

"Are you off your meds again?" Jenny gaped sarcastically, still in complete shock at the sudden attack.

"You're having an affair aren't you?" her mother demanded, completely out-of-the-blue.

Jenny froze, utterly blindsided. "N-no!" she protested as soon as she regained her wits.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" her mother hissed, holding up a mobile in her hand.

Jenny's stomach disappeared as she realised that it was, in fact, her own mobile.

"Mother, you've got this all wrong - " Jenny began, not having a clue what she was going to say to talk herself out of it.

"Oh have I really?" her mum asked, her voice practically sagging with sarcasm as she held up the phone to her eyes, squinting at the screen. "Let me see . . . 'I can't wait to have you all to myself tonight. I've been thinking about you all day, and what I want to do to you when I have the chance' - "

"Alright mother, I get the message," Jenny interrupted hastily, her cheeks beginning to burn with embarrassment.

"So you are having an affair then?" he mother pressed. "With this - " she paused, squinting at the screen again, "Cutter?"

Jenny paused for a moment, knowing that she was well and truly cornered on this matter. There was no more denying it. She raised her head high, and looked her mother directly in the eye. "Yes," she replied in a clear, defiant voice.

"You stupid, _stupid_ girl," her mum said slowly and deliberately.

"Mother - "

"Have I taught you nothing?" she cut her off aggressively. "You _never _play away until you've got a ring firmly on your finger! Did I raise an idiot?"

"_Mother_ - "

"What if Mark finds out?" her mother interrupted again, looking completely aghast. "Hmm? What if he calls off the engagement? Have you lost your mind?"

"It just happened!" Jenny burst out, finally having reached her threshold of the abuse she was willing to take. "I don't know how – it just did!"

"Have you even thought about your father and me whilst you were enjoying your steamy sessions?" she hissed as she turned and wrenched the curtain shut again.

"_What?_" Jenny gaped, completely at a loss. "What has it got to do with you?"

"Do you know how important the Banks' are in our social circle?" her mum demanded, steam practically issuing out of her ears. "Do you know what would happen if Mark found out about this and told everyone? Your father and I would be completely humiliated!"

"God, I should have known you'd make this all about you!" Jenny yelled back, completely forgetting that they were in a public place. "It's none of your business if I'm sleeping with a hundred men behind his back!"

"It most certainly is my business!" her mother snarled, her face flushed bright red with anger. "If you go getting a reputation for yourself, then it's me who'll have to shoulder the shame of it. Imagine everyone knowing that I raised my daughter to be a - "

"Now you stop right there!" Jenny hissed, shaking with rage at this point. "How _dare_ you judge me! You know that I'm not happy with Mark, but you don't give a toss as long as your reputation is intact!"

"Jennifer, your father and I have paid a fortune for this wedding! Not to mention invested a lot in your relationship with Mark!" she barked, pointing an accusing finger at her. "And if you mess this up, so help me God - "

"I don't love him mum!" Jenny burst out, flinging her arms in the air in frustration. "I want to be with somebody else - "

"Oh you don't know what you want!" her mother yelled, matching her rage. "You never have! So what if you don't love Mark? Do you think that matters in the long run?"

"Um – yes!" Jenny laughed in incredulity. "It matters to me whether I'm in love with my husband or not! It matters to me whether we have anything in common, or whether he's sleeping with his secretary - "

"Oh grow up Jennifer!" her mother exploded. "So he cheats on you – big deal! Men are weak. They do what they need to do, and you must close your eyes and endure - like your betters have done before you. You do _not_ start sleeping with the first man you come across for some cheap revenge! Especially before you've even got the marriage contract signed!"

"You know what mum?" Jenny laughed humourlessly as she unzipped the back of her dress. "If that's your view on life, then I feel sorry for you. I really do," she added as she stepped out of her dress and hurriedly began to pull on her normal clothes.

"I'm not the one about to throw everything away for someone who's probably not even worthy enough to serve the drinks at your wedding!"

"No – you're the one who wants her daughter to marry a lying, cheating sycophant who cares more about getting an upgrade on his car than he does about me!" Jenny cried as she reached forward and snatched her mobile phone back off her mother.

"I want you to have a good life!" her mother shouted. "And I swear to God Jennifer, if you humiliate our family by being caught playing away, you are no longer my daughter!

"Oh don't tempt me mother!" Jenny exclaimed hotly, before grabbing her bag and barging past her mums shoulder, still trembling with anger and shock as she practically ran across the shop.

She caught a glimpse of the mortified-looking sales woman behind the counter before she flung open the door, and forced herself not to look back as she exited.


	20. One to talk

Chapter 20

Cutter glanced up from the research paper he had been flicking through, and with a jolt, he saw that he only had a few minutes until Jenny was due to arrive. Swearing in panic, he shot out of his chair, kicking himself that he hadn't even so much as changed his clothes yet, let alone attempt to bring some semblence of order to his place. Trying not to think about how much of a mess his living room was, he hurried up the stairs and began frantically picking through the dozen or so shirts that were hanging limply in this wardrobe. When he eventually decided on a white and blue checked one, he stripped off his trousers and top, and quickly shrugged on the chosen item before pulling on a fresh pair of jeans. Turning and considering himself in the mirror for a brief moment, he sighed when he noticed that his shirt could do with a good run over with an iron, but since he was expecting the doorbell to ring any minute, there really wasn't much he could do about it. After a brief attempt at taming his stubbornly unruly hair, he headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Trying to ignore the general untidiness of it, he pulled a bottle of red wine out of the rack, and together with two wine glasses, he made his way back to the living room.

_Now_, he thought to himself as he set the bottle and glasses down on the coffee table, _I've got a couple of minutes to make this place look a little less like I've been entertaining a crèche . . ._

But before he could even finish his thought, the doorbell rang resoundingly around the house. Straightening up and cursing to himself for leaving the cleaning up so late, he gave the room one final glance over before he slouched off to answer it. As he pulled the door open, he smiled in anticipation of seeing her, knowing that her company would be the perfect remedy for such a horrific day. But he was brought back to earth with a bump when he instead found himself face-to-face with none other than Stephen. Cutter froze for a moment, bemused at his sudden appearance, but he recovered himself quickly.

"Hi," he said, trying not to let the surprise show in his voice.

"Hi," Stephen echoed, his hands in his pockets and his brow furrowed. "Can I come in for a minute?"

"Um . . ." Cutter stammered, half-glancing down the street – Jenny was due any second, but he supposed that it would look way too suspicious if he refused. "Sure," he said reluctantly, stepping aside to let him pass.

Stephen walked into the living room slowly, his eyes sweeping the room as though he was looking for something out of place. With a pulse of panic, Cutter saw his gaze rest on the bottle of wine waiting expectantly on the table, accompanied by the two wine glasses.

"Someone joining you tonight?" Stephen asked in a forced-casual voice, glancing round at him.

"No," Cutter answered automatically, his pulse increasing to exponential levels.

"Then why are there two glasses out?" Stephen questioned in a hollow voice, gesturing over at the table.

"Did you actually want something Stephen, or did you just come to see how I spend my evenings?" Cutter snapped, the pressure of the interrogation getting to him.

"Oh I already know how you spend your evenings," Stephen stated in a gruff voice, circling the table with a solemn expression. "Speaking of which, when is Jenny due round here?"

Cutter's stomach disappeared entirely as he looked up into the unusually stern expression of his old friend.

"I – excuse me?" was all he could manage to stammer.

"Jenny. What time is she coming round?" he repeated, blinking innocently.

"I – I don't know what you're talking about - "

Stephen laughed in an uncharacteristically cold manner. "Oh don't give me that. I saw you kissing her the other day. Just out of interest, when did you two start sleeping together?"

"Listen," Cutter said in as firm a voice as he could muster. "This is none of your business - "

Stephen laughed again, running his hand over his chin. "So it is true then? Nice cover by the way – pretending you can't stand each other. You both certainly had me fooled."

Cutter clenched his hands into fists in his pockets and ensured that his jaw was set. "Like I said – it's none of your business."

"Christ Cutter," Stephen sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "She's engaged for God's sake - "

"Oh you're one to talk!" Cutter exclaimed hotly, feeling unjustified hate bubble in the pit of his stomach. How dare he give a lecture on adultery when he was doing the exact same thing with Helen behind his back! "You are one to talk Stephen - "

"That was different!" Stephen barked, clearly annoyed that his affair with Helen was being used as justification. "I was young and foolish back then. You're old enough to know better - "

"Aye, you're right – you sleeping with my wife was different," Cutter snapped, his teeth clentched. "It was different because you were supposed to be my friend."

"Oh so just because you don't know Jenny's fiancé, it gives you the right to sleep with her?" Stephen gaped, sounding aghast. "Jesus, will you listen to yourself!"

"I didn't say that," Cutter replied through gritted teeth.

"You know she's just using you?" he said, clearly trying a different tact.

"What?" Cutter spluttered, completely blindsided.

"I've known women like her my whole life," Stephen continued, gesturing at the door. "She's one of those corporate wives who are sick of their husbands playing away, so they pick the first decent looking man who shows an interest to amuse themselves when they're bored."

"She's not like that," Cutter protested, feeling his anger rise. "You don't know her - "

"I think _you're_ the one who doesn't know her," Stephen said coolly, shaking his head again. "What sort of woman flits from her fiancé's bed to her colleagues?"

"Don't - "

"Oh open your eyes Cutter!" Stephen exclaimed. "She's nothing but a lying, cheating slut - "

Blood pounded in Cutter's ears as he punched Stephen in the mouth hard, raw hatred pulsating through him like such he hadn't felt in a long while. Stephen staggered backwards several steps and fell against the doorframe, his hand to his jaw. He immediately straightened himself up, breathing hard, and Cutter stared back at him, his heart pounding and his fists still rose in front of him. He half wished that Stephen would throw a punch back at him so that he could get more of this blind fury out of his system. But instead, Stephen just looked at him.

"You know what Cutter?" he said eventually in an empty voice. "The only reason I'm saying this is because I'm disappointed. I thought you were a better man than this. I thought you were a better man than _me_."

"Well I'm sorry to let you down," Cutter snapped back sarcastically. "But if you want my opinion, you're just jealous."

"You know what – I give up!" Stephen exclaimed, flinging his arms in the air helplessly. "_Do_ what you want, _hurt_ who you want – I'm done!" he added as he turned and stormed off down the hall.

"Good!" Cutter bellowed childishly as he followed him.

"Good!" Stephen yelled as he wrenched the door open.

To Cutter's – and by the looks of it, Stephen's – astonishment, Jenny was on the doorstep, her hand raised as though she had been about to ring the bell.

Everyone froze for a moment, and the most awkward and suffocating silence washed over them all like a tidal wave. After what seemed like an age, Stephen looked Jenny up and down in disgust before barging straight past her, and stomping off into the night.

Jenny looked round at Cutter, her mouth half open in shock. "What's going on?" she asked, sounding completely and utterly bemused.


	21. Being watched

Chapter 21

"You're kidding me?" Jenny sighed, her forehead resting on her palm.

Cutter had spent the last five minutes explaining his confrontation with Stephen to her, and by the end of it, she had sunken onto the couch, her confusion replaced by complete and utter panic. This was exactly what they didn't want. Her mother knowing about their affair was one thing, but Jenny knew that the small sliver of family loyalty that existed inside her would prevent her from saying anything to Mark. Well that, and the fact that her mother would probably rather die that shoulder the embarrassment of her daughters infidelity. But Stephen – he had nothing to lose by telling the rest of the team about them.

"He said he saw us together," Cutter continued in a resigned voice as he poured them both out a generous helping of wine.

"And you punched him?" Jenny asked, unable to believe Cutter would lose his rag like that. "You actually _punched_ him?"

"He was asking for it!" Cutter protested hotly as he handed her a brimming glass of wine. "You should have heard the things he was saying – coming in here and telling me that I'm not the guy he thought I was when _he's _the one who slept with _my_ wife - "

"Oh for goodness sake Nick!" Jenny exclaimed, her indignity forcing her to her feet. "This isn't the school playground! All you've done is given us a very pissed off Stephen!"

"So?" he said insolently.

"_So_," Jenny said, rolling her eyes, "he's hardly likely to do us a favour and keep our secret now that you've knocked ten bells out of him is he?"

Cutter stopped in the middle of his mouth forming a word and looked humbled for a moment. Then he pitched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"No, you weren't," Jenny said sharply, although her heart softened slightly. After all, she suspected that he had only lost his temper because Stephen had said something about her that was not exactly complementary, and she couldn't really stay mad at him about that. "But there's nothing we can do about that now," she added with a resigned sigh. "And besides, we've got another thing to worry about."

"Oh?" Cutter said before taking a mouthful of his wine. "What?"

Jenny took a large gulp of her own wine. "My mother," she said, wincing at the bitter taste. "She read the text message you sent me before. She knows about us."

Cutter set his glass down heavily on the table and turned to rest his arm on the fireplace, running his hand back through his hair. "And?" he asked in a tense voice. "What did she say?"

"Oh the usual," Jenny replied flippantly as she refilled Cutters glass and topped up her own. "That I'm an embarrassment to the Lewis name . . . that I'm a loose woman with questionable morals . . . nothing I haven't heard before," she added with a joking smile as she passed Cutter his drink.

He accepted it and swiftly took another large gulp. "So is that why you're here then?" he asked in a surprisingly bitter tone. "To break it off between us?"

Her head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes. "No," she said immediately, her voice coming out with a lot more hurt that she intended to show. "Of course not. Why would you even think that?"

"Because this is all getting really complicated now," he answered, his blue eyes not meeting hers, which now she came to think of it seemed to happen so often.

"Well I'm a complicated woman," she shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

Unfortunately, he seemed to rebuff her attempts at humour and fixed her with a withering stare. "Jenny, how long are we going to be able to keep this up?"

"I don't - " Jenny began, but he cut her off.

"You're going to be married in a few months," he interjected, his eyes looking saddened at the very thought. "So . . . what? Are we going to keep this up when you're _Mrs Banks_?" he said the last two words with obvious distaste.

"I don't know," she said shortly, turning away from him and stripping off her blazer, throwing it haphazardly on the couch.

"What about when you two start trying for kids?" he asked gruffly. "Hmm? Are we going to keep at it then - ?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" she screamed as she turned back to him, completely losing her temper under the pressure. "Okay? I just don't know!"

They both lapsed into silence for a moment, breathing hard and glaring at each other.

"Look," Jenny said eventually in an uneven voice, her frustration melting away slowly. "I don't know what's going to happen in a few days, or a few months, or a few years . . ." she continued, walking forward and cupping his face in her hands. "All I know is that right now, there is nowhere I'd rather be more than here - with you."

Reluctantly it seemed, Cutter smiled and closed his eyes, as though contented by her touch.

"So let's just forget about everything else and have a good time this weekend, hmm?" she continued hopefully as she brushed one of her hands back through his sandy blonde hair.

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him so that their lips were merely millimetres apart.

"Well I suppose I could be persuaded," he smirked, his breath tickling her softly.

"Oh yeah?" she smiled, raising her eyebrow suggestively as she wound her arms round his neck.

"Yeah," he nodded as he reached up and pulled out the pin that held her bun in place.

As they kissed, he ran his fingers through her hair, freeing it so that it flowed down her shoulders in waves. Jenny closed her eyes and enjoyed the blissful oblivion that he so often brought her; the feel of him, the smell of him . . . everything about him made her feel so grounded and calm.

Like there was no one in the world but them.

* * *

Peter McBride – known as Mr M to his clients – was still crouched down by the window, conveniently hidden by a rather shaggy bush that had been left to grow wild by its owner. He had been tailing this 'Jenny Lewis' for days now, and he had been very pleasantly surprised to find that this job certainly wasn't as simple as he had first assumed it would be when he had received the call from a Mr Banks. The woman was definitely playing away of course – but the more he had followed her, the more he had discovered that screwing her colleague was the least of her secrets. He hadn't seen enough to confirm anything of course, but judging by all the armed men she was constantly surrounded by, Little Miss Pretty was hiding a lot more than a lover. He just needed to do a bit more digging to find out what. It was probably something illegal – something her fiancé would willingly pay extra to know about.

He glanced up from focusing his camera and watched as the couple exchanged a very heated kiss. First things first – he needed a handful of photographs to prove her infidelity before he could get her fiancé interested in what else she was up to. Putting his camera to his eye, he zoomed in as the woman pulled off her top.

"God, I love this job," he whispered to himself, taking a snap shot as the couple staggered towards the couch, entwined in a fierce embrace.


	22. The meeting at the cafe

**Short one today I'm afraid, but the next one will be longer I promise :) Thank you to all the people who have reviewed, in particular CakeyxClickx, Stephanieella96 and Nathol99 who have stuck with this story. Love you guys :D x**

* * *

Chapter 22

It was six thirty on Monday morning, and Mark sat in a cheap all-night cafe, tapping his fingers on the table and ignoring the rancid-looking greyish coffee that the spotty waitress had placed down in front of him a while back. Looking up at the peeling wallpaper, he sighed, feeling incredibly drained. He hadn't long got back from the airport and still had his suitcase with him, but he was too anxious to see what his private detective had managed to find out about Jenny's strange behaviour to wait, and in any case, he wanted to get this all over with before she got home from work.

He straightened up as he spotted Mr M enter, taking in his short squat appearance and his oiled-back balding hair.

"Mr Banks," he said with a curt nod as he slid into the seat opposite him. "I trust you had a good trip?"

"Let's skip the pleasantries shall we?" Mark answered shortly, not wanting to drag this out any longer than was necessary. "We both know why we're here. So tell me what you've got."

Mr M looked at him for a moment, his expression blank and unreadable. Then, he gave another curt nod as he reached for his briefcase. "As you wish," he sighed in a rather mocking voice as he fished inside it for something. Eventually, he pulled out a large brown envelope, and handed it over with a fake sad smile. "This might upset you," he added as he sat back, his small watery eyes searching his face.

His stomach clenched tightly, Mark opened the envelope and with trepidation pulled out what looked like a set of photographs. He spent a few moments flicking through each one, bile rising as he saw that each one was worse than the previous.

She _was_ having an affair.

With that Scottish blonde guy that had shown up at their house late one night.

He stopped when he reached a particularly graphic one and launched them back on the table, the anger too much to bear.

"Bitch," he muttered to himself as he ran a shaky hand over his face.

"This is the hardest part of my job," Mr M agreed with a sympathetic nod.

Mark squeezed his hands into fists, fighting the urge to punch something or indeed someone with difficulty. He just couldn't believe she could do something like this to him. He knew that she could be a heartless and uncaring cow when she needed to be – it was her job after all – but to be able to pull off a fully fledged affair behind his back? How had she been able to stomach it? Well, pretty easily judging by the photographs . . .

"Thank you for your information," Mark said, struggling to keep his voice steady as he gathered the pictures back up. "I'll make sure you get the rest of your fee," he added as he made to stand up.

"Hang on," Mr M said abruptly, reaching across the table to stop him. "There may be more."

"More?" Mark questioned with narrowed eyes as he lowered himself back down onto his chair. "What could possibly be worse than _this_?" he asked, gesturing at the photographs in his hands.

After a dramatic look around to check that no one could hear them, Mr M leaned forward and began explain that he suspected that Jenny was up to something illegal, judging by the armed men and the security around her. He said with confidence that if given more time, he could find out what it was.

"Something illegal?" Mark repeated, leaning forward with interest. "Well – what?"

"That's what I'd be finding out," Mr M said with a cheerful wink. "If she's hiding anything else, I'll find out what, don't worry. But first, I need to know more about her."

"Like what?" Mark asked.

"Like what does she do for a living?" Mr M explained, twisting his wedding ring round and round on his finger as he spoke. "Who are her friends? Where does she spend her spare time?"

"Well, all I know is that she works for some private sector of the government," Mark began with a shrug.

Mr M's head snapped up at those words, the colour draining completely from his already pale face. "The government? You said nothing about her working for the government."

"Well I don't really know much about it," Mark explained in a low voice. "She's under the Official Secrets Act isn't she, so she can't tell me - "

"What!" Mr M exclaimed, so loudly that the old woman at the next table looked over in annoyance. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Well I didn't think it was relevant - "

"I can't go poking around in top secret government business!" he hissed, looking scandalised. "I've done it once before, and I nearly got landed in prison! You can't tail secret government officials!"

"So you're saying you won't keep following her?" Mark said, his voice bitter with disappointment.

"Too right that's what I'm saying," he laughed humourlessly as he zipped his suitcase shut. "More than my life's worth - "

"Oh forget it, I'll do it myself," Mark huffed as he stood up, the envelope grasped tightly in his hand. "Thanks for nothing," he added as he walked away.

"We won't be forgetting the rest of my fee Mr Banks?" the Detective shouted after him.

Mark ignored him and pulled the grimy door open so aggressively that it banged loudly against the wall. Blood boiling with anger, he stomped off to his car, the photographs still clutched tightly in his hand.


	23. The lie exposed

Chapter 23

Cutter's alarm clock buzzed loudly on the bedside table, forcing him out of the peaceful, dreamless sleep he had been in. Jenny stirred in his arms, groaning in displeasure.

"What time is it?" she asked in a croaky voice as she turned onto her side, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she did so.

Still half-asleep, Cutter glanced around at his clock. "Six," he murmured, turning and putting his arm back around her.

She gave a joking whimper, her eyes still firmly closed. "I've got to go home," she said as though the very notion was repellent.

"Don't," he murmured, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "Just stay here."

"I can't, I've got to get ready for work," she sighed as she relaxed back into him. "I shouldn't have really stayed last night. Mark's due home today."

Cutter sighed at the mention of his name and rolled away from her, the illusion completely shattered with those last four words.

* * *

Jenny leaned towards the long mirror in her bedroom to put the finishing touches to her fresh makeup. With a flourish, she applied a thick coat of ruby red lipstick before pursing her lips together and stepping back, smoothing her hands over the tight black dress she had chosen to wear for work. She considered herself for a moment, vaguely wondering if this look would be likely to remain practical for very long given the nature of her job. Still, she did have more sensible attire in her locker in the ARC in case it was needed. After a final scrunch of her loose hair, she glanced up at the clock, telling her it was quarter past eight, and if she left now she would make it to work before nine. Grabbing her bag and pulling out her mobile phone, she made her way downstairs, her heels clicking noisily on each step as she walked. As she strode down the hall, she was so deeply absorbed in checking her text messages that she didn't notice anyone else's presence until she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned and shrieked in shock as her brain registered that someone was sitting unmoving on the living room couch. It took her a few seconds to realise with a rush of relief that it was in fact Mark, and not some stranger that had just wondered in off the street.

"Sweetheart - you scared the hell out of me," she gasped, clutching her still pounding chest as she walked into the living room. "I didn't hear you get back."

Something was wrong. She could tell by the way his jaw was set, and his face pale and stony, his eyes staring up at her unblinkingly.

"Okay, what's the matter?" she asked, feeling a flicker of worry as she looked down at his haunted looking eyes.

He stared at her for a few moments, making her feel like she was being examined inside out with his eyes. Finally, with one swift jolting movement, he threw something that he'd been holding onto the coffee table, before sinking back down to watch her again.

She glanced down at it, and saw with numbing horror that it was a stack of photographs.

_Oh God . . . _

The first one showed her on top of Cutter on his couch, her bare back nauseatingly visible, and their position leaving very little to the imagination. But how . . . when . . .

She looked back at him, feeling sick; her heart hammering so fast she was surprised he couldn't hear it. She swallowed painfully as he slowly got to his feet, and rounded the table so that he was towering over her. His lips were chalk white and thin, and he looked utterly livid.

"Mark - " she began but she stopped herself immediately when her voice come out shaky and high-pitched.

She could see a vein flickering horribly on Mark's temple. Without warning, his face contorted in fury and he slapped her across the cheekbone hard with the back of his hand. For the second time in as nearly as many days, Jenny's head flew to the side, and the pain temporarily made her freeze. Eventually, she gathered herself together and straightened up, pushing her hair out of her face with a trembling hand.

"How _could _you?" he demanded malevolently, his thin lips curling with anger.

She knew that she should be full of apologies and be practically begging to be forgiven, but that slap had drove any guilt she had about her actions away as soon as the blown had been struck.

"Well it was very easy actually," she hissed back, wishing that she would stop shaking from head to toe. "And quite enjoyable too. In fact, the only regret I have is being faithful to you for so long in the first place - "

He raised his hand as if to strike her again, but she was ready for it this time, and backed away until she hit the wall behind her. "I gave you that one because I probably deserved it," she stated in a forced-calm voice, her hand held unsteadily in front of her. "But if you touch me again, I swear to _God_ it will be the last thing you ever do," she added in a threatening a tone as she could muster.

He hesitated for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he was fighting to control himself. Jenny held her ground, not able to draw a breath, but willing herself not to show any sign of fear. After a few painfully long moments, he startled her by stepping forward and suddenly banging the wall next to her head hard, causing an involuntary yelp to be wrenched from her lips again. With one final look of loathing, he pulled away and stormed out. Jenny stayed frozen where she was, quivering uncontrollably until she heard the front door slam loudly, telling her she was safe. As the numbing shock slowly ebbed away, she put her hand to her mouth to suppress a sob, her eyes streaming either from the pain emanating from her cheek, or the sorrow that her life had just come crashing down around her in a few moments.

She gave herself a few moments to pull herself together before she impatiently wiped the wetness from under her eyes, taking a deep calming breath. She was due at work in half an hour, and she didn't want to turn up looking upset in any way. When she was sure that she had got most of the feeling back in her cheek, she straightened up, and unable to bring herself to glance into the mirror, she walked straight out of the door.

* * *

Mark watched from his car that he had purposely parked on the other side of the road, waiting for Jenny to come out and drive off to this mysterious job that in the last few hours he had rapidly found himself obsessing over. Now that he had found out about her cheating, he _needed _to know everything she was hiding, especially if it was something that he could use to his advantage. His blood still boiled as he sat and waited, but he had managed to steady his breathing. At long last, she came out of the house, slamming the door behind her with unnecessary force. He squinted to see that she had a clear and defined red mark across her cheek that he quickly batted away the guilt for – so what if he'd slapped her? She'd more than earned it. She kept her eyes on the floor so that her hair fell forward, hiding her face as she reached her car.

Mark watched as she pulled away in her car, and after ensuring that she had a few cars head start, he followed her.


	24. Stephen's say

Chapter 24

Stephen found himself wondering aimlessly around the ARC, rather disappointed at the lack of action today. He knew it was only the beginning of the week and so there was still plenty of time for something interesting to happen, but he had been restless all weekend thanks to his run in with Cutter. Battling with some as-yet unidentified creature was exactly what he needed to channel all this pent up energy. Letting out a fed up exhale, he entered the main room, half-considering doubling back to go and spend a few hours in the gym, but before he could make a decision, a lone figure leaning across the balcony caught his eye. He looked up and saw with a thud of anger that it was Jenny. He knew he was bound to run into her at some point today, but still . . . she riled him. Before he had found out about her and Cutter, he had actually found that he had liked Jenny; respected her even. But now he just saw her as someone who was playing with his friends already battered heart, and he didn't like that one bit. Especially after what Stephen himself had put Cutter through. He didn't want to stay silent and watch whilst he got hurt again.

He made his way steadily up the ramp, watching Jenny as he did so. She had her elbows resting on the railings, her hands cupping her face as she looked blankly out onto the main room. She appeared to be in the middle of a deep thought as her dark eyes seemed glazed, and she made no movement as he approached.

"You look tired," he remarked as he reached her, mirroring her position by leaning forward on the railings. "Cutter been keeping you up late has he?"

"Go away Stephen," she said in a bored voice, her gaze still set firmly ahead.

"Why are you doing this to him?" he asked, not willing to back down now that he had started.

"I _said_ go away," she repeated in a cold voice that would make a lesser man's neck hair stand on end.

"See, at first I thought it was just boredom," he continued in a falsely airy voice. "But do you want to know what I think now?"

"I'm riveted," she stated in the same jaded tone.

"Now I'm thinking that maybe you're doing it to purposely hurt him," he finished triumphantly, ignoring her disinterest in the conversation.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said coolly, still not even doing him the courtesy of looking around at him. "Now just leave me alone."

"I think you can't stand him, so you've concocted up this petty little plan to make him fall for you, and then you're going to dump him when he's at his most vulnerable - "

"Just shut up Stephen," she snapped as she ran her hands through her hair, finally losing her composure. "You don't know the first thing about Cutter and I - "

"I know that you're just using him," Stephen corrected her smugly.

"Yeah?" she retorted, finally snapping her head around to look at him. "Well you know nothing then. I care about him more than you'll ever know."

"Then why aren't you with him?" Stephen challenged her. "Why are you still engaged?"

She paused for a moment, looking back out onto the main room and grasping the railing tightly. "It's complicated," she answered eventually. "And you know what Stephen? It's none of your business."

"It _is_ my business when you're screwing with Cutter's head," he bit back, turning to her and resting his elbow on the railing.

"And why would you care?" she hissed venomously.

"Because he's my friend!" Stephen barked back.

Jenny let out a cold, patronising laugh. "Your friend? Really? Is that what you told yourself when you were in bed with his wife?"

"I was young and stupid back then," he said through gritted teeth. "What's your excuse?"

"I don't need a morality lecture from you _Hart_," she said in a dangerous whisper, her eyes flashing as she turned to him fully for the first time. "And if you'd care to remember, I'm your superior in this building. You can't talk to me like this. Unless you want to be lining up in the job centre on tomorrow - "

But Stephen had stopped listening as something on Jenny's cheek caught his eye. There was a clear and defined mark across her right cheekbone that contrasted fantastically with her pale skin. It looked as though she had taken a solid blow off someone.

"What's that?" he interjected curiously, gesturing at her cheek.

She stopped talking abruptly and turned away from him again. "It's nothing," she mumbled, her hand brushing against the side of her face.

He furrowed his brow in concern. "Jenny - "

But before he could say anything more, the piercing sound of the anomaly detector made them both jump, the flashing red light casting a sallow glow on her face. Below them, Connor hurried in and began typing frantically on the anomaly detector to get the coordinates. Cutter followed him in not long after.

"Where is it?" Jenny shouted down to them, her brusque tone not quite concealing her relief at the interruption in conversation.

"Bear with me . . . bear with me . . ." Connor said absently; distracted as he fiddled with the detector, ". . . it's in Epping Forest," he finished triumphantly, looking around at Cutter for approval.

"Right then," Jenny said, slapping her hands against the railings, giving off an air of finality. "Let's go," she added, as she started down the ramp.

Stephen followed her closely and was only a few feet behind her when she reached Cutter.

"I'm going to go and change before we head out," he heard her say to him. "I don't really want to be trekking around the forest in heels. I'll meet you in the car," she added as she turned to go.

"Hang on," Cutter said abruptly, grabbing her arm to stop her and apparently forgetting that both Stephen and Connor were watching. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing to her cheek in much the same way that Stephen had done.

"It's nothing," she replied coldly as she pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I just slipped in the shower this morning," she added quickly, seeing Cutter open his mouth furiously. "That's all. Now can I go and get changed?"

Cutter paused for a fraction of a second, looking thoroughly unconvinced, but he eventually nodded. "Be quick," he said to her shortly before turning and gesturing at Connor and Stephen to follow him.


	25. The u turn

Chapter 25

"Nick, for the last time – it's nothing!" Jenny exclaimed hotly, running her hand through her hair in frustration.

"You're lying!" he accused, jerking the gear stick a little harder than was necessary. "I know you're an expert at it, but you can't fool me!"

Jenny scowled loudly and sank further down in her seat, completely torn. Yes, she _was_ lying, but what other choice did she have? If she told Cutter that Mark had struck her, he'd go absolutely ballistic. She knew he had a tendency to fly off the handle – his fight with Stephen proved that. She half wished she had gone ahead in the car with the others to avoid this never ending interrogation.

"I'm not going to let up on this Jenny!" Cutter continued to rant, making a sharp turn. "Either you tell me the truth, or I'll stop this car right now and wait right here until you feel like talking!"

Jenny sighed, her hand rubbing her throbbing temple. "Fine," she conceded eventually. "If you want the truth Nick, Mark found out about us."

"What?" Cutter gaped, taking his eyes off the road to look at her.

"He had pictures of us together," Jenny explained, her gaze set firmly out of the window. "I think he's had someone following me - "

"No, hang on – I don't give a damn about that," Cutter interrupted in a brittle tone. "Are you saying that he hit you?"

"Well, yes - " Jenny began, but she was cut off when Cutter yanked the handbrake up hard, jolting the wheel sharply so that the car span out on the country lane to face the other way. "CHRIST!" she yelled, clutching the dashboard to stop herself been thrown into the window. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"I'm going to kill him, that's what I'm going to do!" Cutter bellowed, his face flushed an angry red as he took off back down the road they had just driven down.

"Cutter – you stop this car right now!" she shouted, her pulse racing. "I mean it!"

"No – I'm going to literally kill him!" Cutter roared, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

"We have an anomaly site to get to!" she protested, desperately grabbing at his jacket to stop him. "Just pull over!"

"No!"

Right that was it - she'd had enough of this! In one swift motion, she propped herself up with one hand on his chair and sat half on his lap, slamming her food down on the break. The car immediately jolted, throwing both of them forward.

"Jenny!" he yelled in surprise, trying to push her off whilst keeping one hand on the steering wheel. "Get off! We're going to end up in a ditch - !"

"Then pull over!" she yelled, keeping her foot pressed down on the break.

"Alright! _Alright_!" he shouted, pushing her back into the passenger seat before pulling the car at the side of the lane.

They both sat back in their seats, breathing hard. Eventually, she brought herself to look round at him, and saw that he was watching her with a slightly softer expression.

"I'm sorry," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "But I can't stand the fact that he - "

"I know," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to alleviate some of the tension she felt. "And believe me; he won't be doing it again. But if I was in his shoes, I would have probably done worse to me."

Cutter groaned and rubbed his hands over his drawn-looking face. "So what's going to happen now?"

She looked round at him, hitching a forced smile on her face. "Well now, we're going to go and do what we do best, and go and sort out this anomaly alert," she said briskly. "And after it, we'll talk about where we go from here. Okay?"

He hesitated for a moment before replying with a repressed smile, "Okay," he nodded as he started the engine up again. "And by the way," he added as he turned the car back around, "has anyone ever told you that you're bloody crazy?"

"Funnily enough, they have," she smiled across at him. "Now go - we're already late."

* * *

Mark watched as the car Jenny was in turned back around the way it had previously been heading before it had abruptly changed direction for reasons unknown. He had stopped his own car and kept out of sight, least he be spotted, but it seemed that whatever had cause the swift u-turn was now resolved. Mark waited a few moments before pulling his car out and following, close enough to see where they were heading, but with enough distance to ensure that Jenny didn't suspect that he was following.

Time for the truth.


	26. The consequences

**A slightly longer chapter to make up for my recent short ones. Enjoy :) x**

* * *

Chapter 26

Jenny huffed irritably as the car jolted over yet another fallen branch, cursing inwardly as her wrist accidently smacked against the dashboard. From a PR perspective, she supposed it was a good thing when these anomalies appeared in the most remote parts of London, but still, she could really do without being thrown around the car like a rag doll en route. After rubbing her wrist impatiently, she reached down and pulled the hand-held anomaly detector out of her bag.

"It shouldn't be too far now," she said to Cutter, glancing up at the dirt track ahead of them. "It says it's just three hundred yards away . . ." she trailed off, confused.

There, directly ahead of them, was the anomaly, glittering invitingly at them in the harsh winter sunlight. But . . .

"Where are the others?" she asked, looking round at Cutter and seeing the same bemusement mirrored in his contorted expression. "They should have been here well before us."

"Maybe they just got lost?" Cutter suggested half-heartedly as they pulled up by the anomaly, although they both knew that couldn't be true – Stephen had an excellent sense of direction, and that aside, they all had their own portable anomaly detectors as well.

They both got out of the car, careful not to scratch the silver paint of the car doors on the thick trees that surrounded them. Jenny's first instinct was to shout out for her colleagues, but the foreboding silence of the forest pressed in on them, which for reasons unknown made her reluctant to start screaming her head off. Cutter approached the anomaly cautiously and crouched down, examining the ground around it with his head tilted to the side.

"Any tracks?" she asked with trepidation, keeping her distance so as to not contaminate any evidence of a creature incursion.

"It's hard to say," he replied in a distracted tone. "I'm not as good at this as Stephen is, and the ground's pretty hard from the cold."

Feeling the trepidation inside her build, Jenny studied the surrounding area, looking for anything that may be out of place. But everything looked just as it should; frosted, damp and peaceful. But then why did she have such a bad feeling? Leaving Cutter to his track search, she rounded the car, and slowly made her way over to the steep embankment that ran alongside the dirt track. Cautiously, she lent forwards to peer down into the wild shrubbery, holding onto a tree next to her to make it easier to keep her balance in her boots –

It took a few seconds for her brain to actually register the sight below, but as soon as she comprehended what her eyes were seeing, her stomach seemed to melt away with numbing terror.

"Nick!" she shouted, forgetting her vow of quietness in her utter panic. "_Nick!_"

He was at her side in a second. "What?" he demanded urgently.

Too shocked to speak, Jenny pointed, her hand shaking as she did so. His eye line followed her unsteady finger, and when he spotted it, his expression froze.

There, at the very bottom of the treacherously steep embankment, was the other SUV, battered and crumpled, and lying steaming on its roof.

"Oh my God," Jenny gasped.

"STEPHEN!" Cutter shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his call. "STEPHEN!"

"ABBY!" Jenny yelled down the slope, her voice trembling with fear. "CONNOR!"

Nothing. Not one movement.

"Right, I'm going down," Cutter said grimly as he pulled his jacket off and threw it on the floor. "Stay here - "

"No way, I'm coming with you!" she exclaimed, slightly stung that he'd leave her here.

"Jenny, please – just call for back up," he said, distracted as he concentrated on stepping down onto the steep and uneven slope. "I'll be right back."

Jenny opened her mouth to argue some more, but he was already meandering his way around the slanted trees and fallen branches towards the upturned car. Grumbling, Jenny reluctantly made her way back to their own car, making a mental note to remind Cutter that she was technically his boss, and so in the future it was her call whether or not she stayed behind. In a world of her own, she opened the passenger door and began rooting for her mobile phone. It was the crashing of bushes that first made her ears prick. Straightening up, she looked around, and to her complete confusion, she saw that Stephen was running towards her at full speed, panting and sweating as though he'd been running the London marathon. As he drew closer, she saw that there was a deep gash on his forehead that seemed to be bleeding freely, and his bare arms seemed to be scratched heavily.

"What the - " Jenny began, gaping at him.

"R - run!" Stephen shouted over to her, his voice breaking with exhaustion.

Jenny was about to yell 'what is it?' over to him, but another sound of crashing vegetation stopped her. Her body seemed to paralyse in fright as she saw exactly 'what' was wrong. There, not twenty feet behind Stephen, was a creature that looked as though it had just escaped the deepest depths of hell. It was at least thirteen feet long and seven feet tall, and was chasing him at a startling speed on two powerfully built hind limbs and two shorter forelegs. It had a massively built skull and a narrow, crocodile-like snout that housed a row of sharp and bared teeth the size of small daggers. Its neck was elongated, and expanded into a large and heavily armoured back.

Stephen grabbed her hand as he reached her and then pulled her along behind him as he ran, snaking and winding into the trees. She sprinted hard after him, keeping up with his pace and refusing to look back, but she could tell that the creature - whatever it was - was gaining on them. Seconds dragged on like hours as Stephen pulled her onwards, and stitch started burning in Jenny's side, but she forced herself to keep going, despite the fact that she knew it was pointless – they could no more outrun a creature like that than they could a cheetah. Stephen suddenly veered off to the side, seemingly intentionally, and he pulled her with him. She stumbled as the ground went uneven under her feet before she realised that he was in fact leading her down the embankment, heading for the thicker lining of trees below.

Stephen's hand griped her own tightly as he dragged her in between two tightly packed trees. She could feel the creatures' rancid breath on her neck as it lurched forward to take a snap at her, but in its eagerness it caught itself in between the two trunks, giving them a very welcome chance of increasing the distance between them and it. In a haze of panic, Jenny felt Stephen's hand being wrenched from hers as they both threw themselves in opposite directions. The beast snarled loudly as it tried to free itself, but Jenny refused to look back, and instead flew through the trees at a speed she didn't even think herself capable of. The branches caught her skin as she went and she felt deep gashes form on her arms and cheeks, but she barely registered the pain; she was too aware of the heavy pounding of gigantic limbs behind her, telling her that the thing had recovered from its mishap all too quickly. Suddenly, she felt sharp claws pierce her back and she screamed as she realised that the creature had made an enormous leap and hit her square in between the shoulder blades. She slammed into the leaf-strewn ground hard, knowing that in a moment she would be dead; she felt its hot panting breath tickle her hair . . .

But a split second later, pressure left her. She looked up, seeing the monster rolling on the floor in front of her, the force of the leap having carried it too far. Adrenaline forced her back on her feet in spite of the fact her ribs felt broken, and she watched in horror as the creature growled, skidding around for a new attack.

"HEY!" Cutter's voice shouted suddenly. "OVER HERE!"

Jenny and the creature both turned to see Cutter sprinting towards them, a rock clasped in his hand. He threw it at full force, and hit the creature hard on the snout. It shook its gigantic head, and let out an ear-splitting roar, clearly annoyed as it turned to face Cutter instead. He backed away slowly and deliberately, trying to lead the thing away from Jenny.

Suddenly, someone grabbed Jenny's hand from behind her, causing her to scream involuntarily, her senses still in overdrive. But to her intense relief, it turned out to be Stephen again, gesturing at her to follow him. She allowed him to pull her over to a rather large tree nearby, but it wasn't until he abruptly started to climb it that she finally saw what his plan was. Once he was on a branch thick enough to hold his weight, he reached his hand down to help her up. She turned, wanting to see if Cutter needed help before she got to safety, but she saw him scrambling up a tree nearby also, his legs just out of reach for the snapping jaws of the creature.

"Jenny, come on!" Stephen yelled down, shaking his hand insistently.

She quickly placed her hand in his and held it firmly as she climbed. He hauled her up, compensating for her poor climbing abilities, and at long last she joined him on the low branch, perching awkwardly next to him. Thanking anyone up there that she had thought to change out of the short dress and into a more modest pair of jeans, she glanced around at Stephen, panting hard.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her voice seeming to catch in her throat.

He gave her a curt nod, his gaze set out into the distance. "You okay?" he asked quietly, still keeping a tight hold on her arm.

She nodded numbly, deciding that now wasn't the time to complain about her bleeding back and her painfully throbbing ribs, figuring it was the least of her worries. "What happened to the car?" she questioned, wondering if her breathing rate would ever return to normal after that fright.

"It pushed us down the embankment," Stephen answered, still panting. "We barely got out, and it kept attacking so we all ran in opposite directions."

"Are Abby and Connor okay?" she pushed.

"I don't know," he sighed, his brow furrowed. "Cutter, you okay?" he added loudly, his voice echoing around the forest.

"Yeah!" Cutter shouted back, standing on a high branch and holding the tree trunk for support as he stared down at the circling creature. "How about you two?"

"Fine, apart from a few scratches," Stephen replied. "What is it?" he added, obviously referring to the beast below them.

"I think it's a Postosuchus," Cutter answered, gripping the truck tighter as the creature made another attempt at reaching him. "Late Triassic."

"Yes, and whilst that is all very interesting," Jenny snapped sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "any ideas on how we're going to get ourselves out of this one?"

"I ran into Connor and Abby," Cutter shouted over. "I've sent them to our car to get the tranquiliser guns. They shouldn't be long."

The creature paced in between their trees impatiently, clearly annoyed that its tasty meal was just out of reach. It let out a deep growl of frustration that made the hair on Jenny's arm prickle. Her heart was still racing in her chest, the shock of the sudden attack still bearing down upon her.

But then something happened that made her heart disappear all together.

"JEN!" an instantly recognisable voice shouted from the distance - the last voice Jenny expected to hear at that moment.

It was Mark.

Squinting in between the trees, Jenny spotted him meandering towards them, unknowingly stumbling onto the creatures' path and completely oblivious to the danger ahead of him. He had clearly heard her shouting over at Cutter before and had come to investigate . . . but how had he known where she was . . .?

"Mark!" she cried, surprised that her startled mouth could form words. "Mark – run! Get out of here!"

"Jenny?" he shouted, sounding thoroughly bemused as his eyes searched the place for her. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Mark – just run!" she begged, making furious notions with her arm despite the fact she doubted he could see her through the leaves.

The confusion hadn't quite died from his face and his eyes were still widened in shock as the Postosuchus pounced, hitting him square in the chest.

"NO!" Jenny yelled, the numbing horror forcing her to jump down from the tree, despite the twenty foot drop.

She landed painfully on all fours, although she barely felt it. Her breaths came in searing gasps as she scrambled to her feet, each inhale seeming to shred her lungs. Her legs didn't seem to be working properly, but she forced herself to sprint, telling herself over and over again that Mark would be alright as long as she could get to him . . .

She had only ran a few yards before Cutter appeared out of nowhere, grabbed her around the chest and holding her back fiercely.

"It's too late - "

"NO!" Jenny screamed, each word tearing at her throat as she struggled hard to free herself. "MARK! YOU'VE GOT TO SAVE HIM!"

"There's nothing we can do!" Cutter barked, his voice shaking as he fought to restrain her.

"NO – HE'S NOT – HE CAN'T BE - !" Jenny screamed, tears clouding her vision as she fought against Cutter's grip with every bit of strength she possessed.

"Jenny – he's dead!" Cutter bellowed, shaking her roughly as if to awaken some sense in her. "He's gone – it's over!"

"NO!" Jenny sobbed, losing the will to fight and sinking into Cutter's embrace, pain such as she'd never felt before emanating from her stomach.


	27. Giving up

Chapter 27

Jenny had been walked to her office in the ARC by Cutter and told to stay put whilst he went and spoke with Lester. She hadn't argued – indeed she had barely been able to speak since Abby and Connor had knocked out that horrid beast only seconds after it had . . .

She sat at her desk numbly, staring blankly ahead of her, the quietness and stillness of her office unbearable. She closed her eyes as the tears streamed down her cheek, trying in vain not to think . . . not to feel . . . but she couldn't seem to shut her brain off. It had been her fault Mark had been killed. It was _all_ her fault. If she had not been having an affair - if she had been faithful to him and not allowed herself to fall for Cutter - Mark wouldn't have followed her to his death. Hell, if she'd never have joined the ARC in the first place, he would still be alive.

And it _killed_ her.

She kept replaying that moment over in her mind; that moment when the creature had pounced at him, and every time she did, the dark gaping hollowness inside her seemed to open further. She should have been able to do something . . . she should have been able to prevent this . . .

She opened her sore eyes as she heard voices approaching from the corridor outside. Without a knock, Lester strode straight in, looking thoroughly harassed. Cutter followed him straight in, and by the daggers he was shooting him, he had been trying to stop him coming in at all.

"How did you let this happen?" Lester asked her in a stiff, quiet voice.

Jenny sniffed and wiped under her still-streaming eyes. "I – I don't - " she began, but she stopped when she realised that her voice was shaking too much to be understood.

"Do we have to do this now?" Cutter asked Lester in a brittle tone, watching Jenny with open concern.

"Yes we have to do this now," Lester snapped. "One of my employees partners is dead and I want to know why - "

"He was following me," Jenny interrupted numbly, the guilt that filled her chest redoubling. "He – he wanted to know what I was up to."

"So he knew about the anomalies?" Lester demanded furiously. "Did he tell anyone - ?"

Jenny silenced him by shaking her head, every movement she made costing her all the effort in the world. "He didn't know anything about the ARC," she stated in a trembling voice, unable to look her boss in the eye. "He was following me because he found out I was having an affair."

Lester and Cutter both froze in unison, the latter widening his eyes in warning. But Jenny didn't care who knew anymore – in fact, she wanted people to know. She wanted people to blame her for Mark's death, because she knew she more than deserved it and she found their blame rather cathartic.

"So you had an affair, and now your fiancé is dead because of it," Lester said eventually, surveying her coldly. "I must say, I'm very disappointed in you Jenny. I thought you conducted yourself better than this - "

Jenny slammed her hands down on the desk and shot to her feet, white-hot anger flaring up from nowhere in the pit of her stomach. "I quit," she stated with as much loathing as she could muster.

Shaking from head to foot, she stormed around her desk and barged past Lester's shoulder. She seized the doorknob and wrenching it open, and without looking back she practically ran down the corridor, hot tears engulfing her again. She didn't stop until she got out into the car park.

"Jenny!" Cutter's voice said suddenly from behind her. She didn't look around, but knew by the pounding of the pavement that he was running after her. "_Jenny_," he repeated as he grabbed her arm to halt her.

She yanked her arm out of his grasp, breathing hard to try and control her tears. "Don't touch me," she cried, shrinking away from him.

She could barely bring herself to look at him, as every time she did she found that the burning hot shame of their affair worsened. She couldn't have him near her . . . the pain was too much . . .

He held out his hands in front of him, indicating that he wasn't going to go near her. "I won't," he said in a forced calm voice. "But just let me drive okay?"

"No - "

"Jenny, you're hurt and you're upset," he stated gently, inching closer to her. "I know you said you don't want to go to hospital, but please let me drive you home."

"I'm perfectly capable of driving Nick," she said quietly, turning away from him and walking over to her car.

She pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car before she reached it. But as she opened the door, Cutter immediately slammed it shut again from behind her.

"Jenny - _please_," he said again, a hint of desperation in his voice. "You're not thinking clearly. You're in no fit state to drive. Please just give me the keys."

She hesitated for a moment, weighing up her desperate longing to be alone with the small sliver of reason that said he was right – she was in no fit state to get behind the wheel. Eventually, she reluctantly handed him the keys.

He took them off her with a sad smile. "Thank you," he said softly as he opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.

* * *

Cutter used Jenny's keys to open her front door for her, as she herself seemed incapable of doing anything but stare blankly into space. He couldn't blame her. What had happened to Mark had disturbed even him, so God knows how she was feeling, especially with the added guilt of her infidelity that was clearly weighing down upon her.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked tentatively, following her as she walked ghost-like into her living room.

"No," she answered in a faint, distant voice as she sank down onto the couch. "Thank you."

He sat down next to her, his heart breaking at seeing her in such a state. "Do – do you want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously, leaning forwards.

She looked around at him with narrowed, swollen eyes. "It hurts to talk Nick," she said, her voice breaking. "It hurts to _think_."

"Look," he said, reaching forward and grasping her limp hand. "I know this has been a terrible, _terrible_ shock. But maybe you should take some time before deciding to quit the ARC."

She abruptly pulled her hand out of his. "I don't give a damn about the ARC Nick," she stated, her voice harsh. "Today, the man I was planning to marry was killed because of your precious anomalies. And it was all my fault - "

"It _wasn't_ your fault," he said gently, willing her to listen to him. "You weren't to know he was going to follow you. You aren't responsible to other people's actions."

She laughed humourlessly and buried her face in her hands. "You don't have a clue do you?" she asked in a bitter and broken voice as she looked back at him. "One of the last things I said to Mark before he died was that I regretted was being faithful to him for so long."

"Jenny - " he began in a sympathetic tone.

"He died because of me, and knowing that I didn't love him - "

"Jenny - " he tried again, hating the way she was taking all of the guilt upon herself.

"If we wouldn't have been sleeping together, Mark never would have followed me to the anomaly, and then he never would have - "

"_Jenny_," he interrupted firmly, gently grabbing and holding her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Don't drive yourself crazy going over and over everything. What's happened has happened, and there's nothing we can do about it now. But know this – you are not responsible for Mark's death."

She pulled away from him and stood up, her narrowed eyes brimming with fresh tears. "Why didn't you save him?" she asked, her voice full of sudden anger.

Cutter stood up himself, feeling utterly helpless. "I – I tried," he said, having to remind himself that she was grieving to stop himself feeling deeply hurt by the insinuation. "But by the time I got down from the tree, he was . . ." he trailed off, his heart heavy.

"No," she shook her head immediately, the tears staining her face as they fell down her cheek. "You – you always manage to save _everyone_. You always save _me_. Why couldn't you save him?"

"I'm – I'm so sorry," he stammered, feeling her pain as though it was his own. "If I could have done, I would have - "

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" she screamed out-of-the-blue, startling him. "YOU JUST LET HIM DIE!" she continued hysterically. "WHY – WHY COULDN'T YOU SAVE HIM - !"

Cutter closed the space between them and pulled her into his arms, trying to calm her. She made an attempt at pushing him away, but he held her firmly until she finally surrendered. She sunk to the floor, sobbing with such sorrow that he actually felt tears well up in his own eyes. He dropped down with her and kept her pulled against him, rocking her gently and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Listen," he said eventually, breaking apart from her gently and cupping her face in his hands. "We _are_ going to get through this."

He knew as soon as the words were out of his lips that he had made a grave mistake. She abruptly stood up, looking down at him in disbelief. "We?" she gaped. "There is no 'we'!"

"Oh Jenny, please don't do this - " Cutter began as he got to his feet also.

"No Nick," she cried, wiping her cheeks impatiently. "We can't just carry on like nothing's happened. My fiancé has just been _killed_. I think that means I won't be in the mood to play your Claudia for a while - "

"You know it's not about that anymore!" Cutter barked, finally losing his temper.

"Just leave will you!" she shouted back, her scratched and stained cheeks flushed with anger. "I have a funeral to organise, and a fiancé to bury."

"Okay, fine I'll leave," he said, stepping towards her. "But just promise me you won't shut me out. I want to help you through this, but you've got to _let _me."

She didn't reply, but instead marched back to the front door, wrenching it open aggressively and gesturing for him to get out. Sighing inwardly and feeling as though he'd aged several years in the last few hours, he reluctantly trotted out.

* * *

Jenny slammed the front door shut loudly, and immediately, the deafening silence crushed in on her, foreboding and intimidating. As she walked in a trance back down the hall, needle-like pain kept stabbing at her heart, everything she past reminding her of Mark. She sunk back onto the couch, grabbing a photograph of herself and Mark that was displayed on the side table as she did so. She stared at it so hard that she was surprised her eyes didn't burn a hole in it. It was taken a couple of years ago when they were at a friend's wedding in Dubai, and it showed them caught in a moment of happiness, both looking at each other and laughing, pure love pouring out of each other's eyes.

Jenny put her hand to her mouth and sobbed, her eyes overflowing once again with tears. "I'm sorry," she cried, talking to the Mark in the photograph. "I'm so, so sorry . . ."

How long she sat there and cried, she had no idea; it could have been ten minutes, or it could have been ten hours. When she finally put the photograph back in its rightful place, something sitting next to the couch caught her eye.

It was Mark's suitcase that he hadn't had a chance to take upstairs since his return from his business trip. Without even thinking about it, she leaned forwards and unzipped it, picking out one of his rumpled shirts with a trembling hand, biting her lip against the swelling sorrow. She brought it up to her face and inhaled deeply, wanting to be able to catch an echo of his familiar scent. Suddenly, with a sickening lurch in her stomach, her eyes fell on the incriminating photographs that were still sprawled across the coffee table. The guilt in her chest seemed to writhe like it was living thing, and the next thing she knew, she was on her feet, pounding shame rushing through her body. She seized the table and threw it so that it broke apart, the legs and pictures scattering all over the floor.


	28. The end

**This chapter will be sort of the end of part 1 of the story. I will try and update as often as I can, revision allowing. Enjoy :) x**

* * *

Chapter 28

Jenny sat at the dressing table in her room, staring unseeingly at herself in the mirror and ignoring the murmurs and muffled conversations issuing up from downstairs. She had bought a new black suit especially for today, unable to bring herself to wear something from her own wardrobe to her fiancés funeral; she knew she'd be constantly wondering if she had wore that particular dress whilst she was sneaking off to be with Cutter. Half of her hair was swept up into a pin, the rest hanging loose around her shoulders in gentle curls. Her makeup was soft and dignified; most of the cuts she had picked up whilst running for her life had been successfully covered up. She could barely remember anything from the last week; only a dull aching in her stomach that every now and then dissolved into a stabbing agony when she allowed herself to really examine the constant guilt she felt. Most of the time she maintained a mental block on all things to do with Mark, but it drained her, and so every so often she felt herself slip.

There were no words in existence that could be used to describe the trauma of the past week. Lester had pulled out all the stops in concocting up a car crash story to cover for the creature attack, and so Jenny was expected to bleat the same lies to her in-laws and her own family, saying that she and Mark had been in a horrific traffic collision and only she had survived, bruised and battered, but otherwise fine. Now she thought about it, it must have been rather convenient for Lester that she had been slashed by all the branches and injured by the creature pouncing on her. She supposed it looked more convincing.

There was a knock on the door behind her, but she ignored it, knowing that it'd be someone telling her that they needed to start making their way to the church – and she didn't think she could bring herself to go . . .

The door opened swiftly, and her mother's face appeared in the reflection in the mirror. She was dressed in a black suit not dissimilar to her own, although her head adored a large black hat, making her look very regal.

"Jennifer," she said in an unnaturally gentle voice as she walked over to her, placing a hand on Jenny's shoulder. "The Hurst is here. We've got to get in the cars now."

"I – I don't think I can go," Jenny said dazedly, looking up at her mother's reflection.

"Well you have to," her mum said sharply, retracting her comforting hand. "You don't have a choice. How would it look if you refused to attend your own fiancé's funeral?"

"I don't give a damn how it looks!" Jenny snapped, carefully wiping away the tears from under her eyes, trying not to smudge her mascara.

Her mother seemed to hesitate for a second, before crouching down level with her, looking at her hard in the mirror. "I know you're taking a lot of the guilt upon yourself," she said in an understanding tone that Jenny thought her incapable of. "I know you feel ashamed that you were cheating on him - "

"Mum, don't - " Jenny began, closing her eyes and looking away as the guilt stabbed her again.

"I'm just saying that you don't need to," her mother finished, putting her hand on her arm. "Just because you and Mark were going through a rough patch the past few months, it does _not_ negate all those years that you were both madly in love. I saw you two together – I know. You made him so happy Jennifer. So whenever you feel guilty, you just think back to all those good times, okay?"

Jenny looked back up at her mother as a tear cascaded down her cheek. If only that was the only reason she felt guilty.

"Maybe just see this funeral as the last thing you can do for Mark," her mother continued, squeezing her comfortingly. "Hmm? Giving him a good send off is an excellent way to make it up to him."

"Mum," Jenny sobbed before she could contain herself, finding her understanding too much to bear. "I can't get up in front of all those people after what I've done," she admitted, shaking her head. "After I just let him die - "

"This is just survivor's guilt," her mother said, nodding wisely as she brushed a stray hair out of Jenny's face. "It's quite common when a loved one dies in an accident that you survive. But sweetheart - " she added, tuning her round to face her on the swivelling stool. "Don't let this destroy you. Don't let this eat you up inside. Mark wouldn't want that."

Jenny let out a dry laugh, feeling pretty certain that wherever Mark was right now, he would be wanting her to suffer eternally for what she did to him. He would want her to punish herself for being responsible for his death.

* * *

The service passed Jenny in a blur; like it was the mass was being said for some stranger and she was just watching from the side lines. When she had gotten out of the car and walked into the church, arm in arm with her brother, she had seen Abby, Connor and Stephen milling about at the back of the crowds, looking both awkward and solemn. They had obviously attended to show their support, which she really did appreciate, although she couldn't help but notice with a pang that Cutter wasn't there. He must have either felt like it would be inappropriate to attend the funeral of a man whose fiancée he had been sleeping with, or else he had reasoned that his presence would be the last thing that Jenny needed. He was probably right on both accounts, she thought to herself.

". . . and now we will hear a poem from Mark's loving and devoted fiancée, Jennifer Lewis," the priest said unexpectedly, casting a sad smile in Jenny's direction.

Caught off guard, she froze in her pew. She had known she was going to get up and speak, but she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't realised that half the service had passed already.

"So Jennifer, if you want to come up here?" the priest prompted her kindly, gesturing up at the podium.

Swallowing painfully, Jenny got to her unsteady feet and slowly stepped up to the altar. Her hands trembled violently as she fiddled with the piece of paper she held. Knowing that she had flushed bright red, she finally succeeded in unfolding the sheet. She cleared her throat, willing herself over and over again not to break down . . . not to cry . . .

"When I come to the end of the road," she began, trying to amplify her shaking voice, "and the sun has set on me; I want no rites in a gloom filled room," she paused, letting out a shaky exhale, "why cry for a soul set free," she continued, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as the unpractised words seemed to tug at her heart strings. "Miss me a little – but not for too long, and not with your head bowed low. Remember the love - " her voice broke again into a sob, and she but the back of her quaking hand up to her mouth. "Remember the love that we once shared," she tried again, her voice now so weak and shaky that she doubted whether anyone would be able to understand her. "Miss me – but let me go - "

That was it; she couldn't go on. There was much more to say . . . but she couldn't bear the crushing guilt anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the microphone, before stepping down from the podium and taking off down the aisle as fast as her heels would allow.

She could hear people calling her back and she caught sight of the familiar and yet hostile faces as she went, but she blocked them out, needing to get as far away from these people as possible. She didn't stop running until she reached the graveyard. The winter sunlight was harshly bright; making her eyes hurt more than they already did with the constant crying. Without looking back, she started down the path, her mind rushing a mile a minute.

She'd get home, grab her passport, throw a bunch of clothes in a suitcase, and just take off. Who cared where – she just needed to get away. Away from her friends and family, away from the ARC . . . away from Cutter . . .

"Jenny!" Cutter's voice cut unexpectedly into the stillness of the graveyard.

Surprised, she turned to see him, smartly dressed, and hovering by the large oak tree that was growing wild at the side of the winding path. He had clearly wanted to pay his respects without being seen by anyone. She froze, unsure of whether to speak to him . . . whether to say goodbye . . .

"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously as he stepped towards her, his hands in his pockets.

"Away," she stated, her voice still faint.

"Away where?" he demanded, looking confused as his eyes searched her face.

The calming influence those blue eyes usually had on her was no longer there. There was nothing he could do or say to make her feel better, she understood that. She needed to get away and clear her head, no matter how long it took.

"Goodbye Nick," she stated quietly, giving him a final look up and down before turning on her heel and walking off.

"Jenny!" he shouted after her, sounding panicked.

But she didn't look back.

Before she knew it, she was in a taxi on her way home, wanting to be out of the country before anyone got wind of the fact that she was leaving.

Before anyone could try and stop her.


	29. Two months on

**Okay, so here is part 2 :) I've kept it on the same story as it ties in with the title. Enjoy! x**

* * *

Chapter 29

Christine Johnson reclined back in her leather chair, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of the warm spring sun that managed to make its way through the window. It had been a long and stressful day, but she was satisfied none-the-less; her hired hackers had finally managed to crack their way into the ARCs computer system, and now she would be able to monitor their goings on without interference from the Minister. The less he knew about her great plans, the better. She had only let a few people in on her plans to take over the ARC; one of them being the man, Leek, whom she had planted in the ARC staff a long time ago, and the other being Captain Wilder, who had proven himself many a time to be a faithful and supremely loyal head of security whom she could trust with her most intimate secrets. She suspected he would prove to be very useful in the not-so-distant future. He was a soldier after all, and she doubted whether she'd be able to pull of this coup without his expertise in fighting.

James Lester wasn't going to know what's hit him.

* * *

Jenny Lewis was sweating and panting as she struck another blow to the punch bag, feeling exhilarated as her heart hammered hard against her ribs and her muscles ached from the constant training.

"Good Jenny," the kick boxing instructor said with an approving nod as he passed her. "Excellent form."

Sean was her training coach, and had been since she had begun staying at this luxury hotel two months ago. The best one in the South of France – or so she had heard. Sean however was not French, but an American. He also happened to be a twenty-something six-foot-two dream boat, and she would be lying if she said it was only restlessness that got her out of bed early every morning to have a workout with him.

"But if you stand more like this . . ." Sean continued as he came up behind her. He placed one hand on her waist and pulled her hip back, and put his other hand on her arm to alter its angle, making her racing heart skip a beat. ". . . you'll have more of a follow through with each punch. Okay?"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder and nodded, flashing him a dazzling smile. He returned her smile with one of his own, before stepping back.

"Give it a try," he grinned, his olive eyes watching her keenly.

She turned her attention back to her punch bag, and took a deep breath, holding the position he had taught her. In one swift motion, she punched the bag hard; so hard in fact that it swung out and hit another woman who was practising on her own punch bag next to her.

"Sorry," Jenny mouthed to the disgruntled-looking woman.

Sean laughed as he steadied her punch bag. "See? Much better," he smiled. "I wouldn't like to meet you in a dark alley late at night."

She laughed herself, and pushed her newly-cut fringe out of her eyes.

"Then again," he added in an undertone as he stepped closer to her. "Maybe I would."

"In your dreams," Jenny retorted with a sweet smile.

Sean laughed again, seemingly uninterested in teaching any of his other students. "I certainly hope so," he said, his dark eyes twinkling. "I've noticed you like to train a lot. Any particular reason?"

"I like to know how to take care of myself," she shrugged, unwilling to admit that she trained mainly to keep her mind occupied.

"Very sensible," he nodded, still in a very close proximity to her. "Well if you ever want any extra tips, I'd be happy to do some out-of-hours training with you."

"Well I might just take you up on that," Jenny replied as she unstrapped her boxing gloves, still breathing hard. "And by the way, your class ended two minutes ago," she added, nodding up at the clock on the wall as she pulled her gloves off.

"Oh crap," he muttered, glancing around at the clock also. "Okay girls!" he added loudly to the room, clapping his hands together to get all of their attention. "Great work today! Now go and get some breakfast and I'll see most of you tomorrow at the same time."

There was a general murmur of agreement as the woman started making their way towards the exit, talking with their friends and pulling their gloves off also.

"You having anything nice for breakfast?" Sean asked Jenny before she could turn to leave.

She shrugged as she moved over to the side bench, picking up her bottle of water. "A large vodka probably," she replied before she took a large gulp.

He laughed again as he followed her over, clearly thinking she was joking. Oh how little he knew her – especially the new her that had seemed to manifest itself since . . .

_Don't think about that, _she told herself immediately, as she did the same way about ten times a day.

"You intrigue me Jenny," he said fondly, his face still crinkled in amusement.

"Oh?" she said, replacing the cap of her water. "How so?"

"Well you've been here for two months now," he said, his hypnotising eyes studying her face. "I've never seen you with anyone else. You don't wear a ring, so I assume you're not spoken for - "

"Ah, so you're admitting you're watching me then?" she smiled, raising her eyebrow.

"Well," he shrugged, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I'd be rather hard not to, if I'm honest."

She exhaled slowly, and looked him up and down for a moment, taking in his tanned and muscular physique more than just visible under that tight white top. "Goodbye Sean," she said eventually, shouldering her gym bag. "I look forward to getting all hot and sweaty with you tomorrow," she added, being purposefully flippant as she turned to leave.

"Well we can do that whenever you want," he called after her, halting her as she was about to push open the door. "We don't need a formal class to do it. Just name the time."

She turned, studying him for a moment, still keeping her palm pushed against the door. "Okay," she shrugged eventually.

He narrowed his beautiful eyes, looking confused. "Okay . . .?"

"Okay," she repeated, blinking innocently. "Meet me in my room in half an hour. Room 203. I'm assuming you'll be able to find your way?"

"Well . . . well yes . . ." he stammered, looking completely awestruck.

"Good," she smiled, pushing the door open fully. "See you in half an hour then," she added before she left, letting the door fall shut behind her as she walked off back to her hotel room.

* * *

Panting harder than any exercise regime would have managed to produce, Jenny relaxed back onto her enormous four-poster bed as Sean lay down next to her, sweat trickling down his own brow.

"Wow," he exhaled, sounding thoroughly out of breath. "You're amazing."

"You weren't too bad yourself," she remarked, closing her eyes as tiredness enveloped her.

"God . . ." he continued, sounding positively elated. "I think I could actually sleep for a week now."

"Well you can go and do it in your own bed," Jenny said, not even bothering to look back around at him.

"What?" he said, sounding bemused. "But I thought - "

"Well you thought wrong," she cut him off, growing impatient. "You can leave now."

"You're not serious?" he gaped, his voice indignant.

She turned and fixed him with a withering stare, hopefully conveying that she was not joking. He looked at her for a moment, his mouth opened in shock. Then he let out a dry laugh, before rolling over and getting to his feet. Jenny turned on her side, hugging the duvet to herself as she heard him dress.

"Will I see you at class tomorrow?" he asked her as he moved towards the door.

"I doubt it," she replied coldly, her eyes still fixed on the wall opposite her.

He let out a small exhale of incredulity before she heard him stomp off towards the door. She only looked back around when she heard the door slam. Getting out of bed with a deep sigh, she pulled on her nightgown and padded off to the mini bar. After examining the refilled contents for a few moments, she selected a miniature bottle of vodka and took it over to the window. Taking in the familiar view of the beautiful and tranquil swimming pool below, she unscrewed the bottle and swiftly took a large gulp. The liquid burned as it trickled down her throat, but Jenny welcomed the feeling; indeed, she relished any feelings that she had, because she seldom experienced any these days. That was why she had really taken up kickboxing; that was why she had really allowed herself to bed a complete stranger – because she was sick of feeling nothing but numbness. It had been months since she had felt any pleasant emotions, and she had thought that sleeping with a stud like Sean would be sure to ignite something inside her.

But it hadn't.

In fact, she was left feeling emptier than she had done before. Taking another gulp of her drink and shuddering at the taste, her mind suddenly slipped onto someone that almost made a smile appear on her face. Putting her half-empty bottle down on the table and picking up her mobile phone, she made her way back over to the bed, and lay down as she flipped it open. She scrolled through a good few pictures before she landed on the one she so often found herself staring at. It had been taken a few months ago . . . she remembered the day well. Letting out a deep frustrated sigh, Jenny touched her finger to the screen as though making contact with the fuzzy image on her phone would make her feel closer to the real thing.

"Nick," she whispered softly, feeling herself well up with longing.

* * *

Cutter lay on his couch, staring up at his ceiling without actually seeing it. It was a Sunday afternoon, but the day was filled with none of the pleasant relaxing feelings a Sunday usually brought. It had been two months now. Two _bloody_ months, and not one word from Jenny. She had just vanished; he had no clue where on earth she was and neither, it seemed, did her family judging by the persistent phone calls Lester had been getting off them, demanding to know her whereabouts.

It would be an understatement to say that Cutter was worried. When he realised that Jenny was leaving, he assumed she would be back in a week or two, still grieving of course, but having worked through most of the issues she had with herself.

But nothing.

He knew she had broken things off between the two of them, but he had thought she would have had the curtsey to call and tell him she was alive at the very least.

He was angry with her. He knew he shouldn't be considering what she had been through and the guilt she was feeling. But to not get in touch with _anyone _for two months? Not to answer her phone when he called? It wasn't right! He didn't even know if she'd ever be back. What if he never saw her again . . .?

Letting out a deep frustrated groan, he fished for his mobile that was wedged in his jeans pocket. Flipping it open, he fiddled for a moment until he brought his stored pictures up. He didn't have many on his phone, but he didn't care – there was only one on there that he was interested in. As he opened it, he felt his chest convulse with longing. He stared at the beautiful pale face for a few moments, wanting to scream with the pain of how much he missed her. Touching a rough finger to the screen, wanting to feel her, he sighed deeply.

"Jenny," he murmured gently.


	30. The unexpected visitor

Chapter 30

James Lester sat in his office, his fingertip pressed together, absorbed in deep thought. A few days ago, he had been informed that Christine Johnson had been put in charge of military liaison with the ARC. And it irked him. He despised that woman with a passion – they had been junior civil servants together back in the day, and he had learnt very early on that she that she was a two-faced, controlling, patronising sycophant who would stop at nothing to get her own way, even back then. Lester knew he was like that himself of course; indeed it was rather impossible to rise through the ranks of the civil service without most of those qualities. But Christine was definitely one of a kind when it came to lying and deceit. It was a dangerous combination; a beautiful woman with such a keen intellect and passion for gaining power. It made her a very precarious enemy to have, and James Lester would most definitely class her as a worthy adversary. He had no idea what she was up to, only that she was after the ARC. He also suspected that she had a plant in the building, although he had no evidence to back up his worries with except a niggling thought that he would probably do the same thing if he was in her shoes.

He straightened up suddenly as an idea struck him hard as if someone had hit him in the back of the head with a mallet.

He jammed his finger hard on the intercom. "Leek, get in here," he barked impatiently.

An immediate scurry could be heard from the office next to him as Leek stumbled out of his swivel chair, and in his haste, he actually banged himself on the glass window before wrenching the door open and hurrying inside.

Idiot.

"Sir?" he said, rubbing the arm that he had banged on the glass with a grimace.

"Book me on a flight for Saint Jean Cap Ferret in the South of France leaving in two hours," he said, standing up and buttoning his blazer.

"Going on a spontaneous holiday are we Sir?" Leek smiled ruefully.

"Don't be so ridiculous Leek," Lester scoffed. "Being surrounded by the French is not how I ever intend to spend a holiday. I want two returning flights for later on tonight. And don't ask questions," he added as Leek opened his mouth inquisitively.

"Of course Sir, right away," Leek nodded, withdrawing himself out of the office.

* * *

Jenny reclined back on her sun lounger, feeling the intense late afternoon sun sizzling at her heavily suntan lotion smothered skin. She would love to be able to let herself bake in the sun until she went golden brown, but she had no desire to look like a wrinkled sixty-year-old by the time she was forty, and in any case, the best she could ever do was get a light tan, or else risk looking like a lobster if she wore a bikini with no sunscreen.

The waiter appeared by her side, smiling politely. "Autre chose, mademoiselle?" he said to her.

"La même chose, s'il vous plait," Jenny grinned back as she handed over her empty cocktail glass.

The waiter took it with a curt nod. "Bien sûr, mademoiselle, tout de suite."

He turned, about to fetch her the same drink again, but a figure walking towards them began speaking to him.

"Je veux boire ce qu'elle boit, s'il vous plait," the voice of James Lester said.

"Tout de suite monsieur," the waiter said with another stiff nod before walking off back towards the bar.

Jenny abruptly sat up on her deckchair, completely and utterly blindsided. "James?" she gaped, lifting her sunglasses up to check whether she was seeing things or not.

But there he was; looking smart and supremely real.

"I know what you're thinking," he said as he sat down on the recliner next to her, perching awkwardly on the end and looking wildly out of place in his suit. "But don't worry – I'm not an erotic dream this time."

"What are you - ?" she stammered, now feeling extremely self-conscious in her bikini. "How did you - ?"

"I must say, I'm very impressed by this place. I might even come back when I've got more time," he said wistfully, casting his eye around and pausing for a moment to admire a group of young woman play-fighting in the pool. "Although maybe I won't bring the wife," he added thoughtfully, looking lost in his own ponderings.

Jenny swung her legs off the recliner, still looking at him in disbelief. "What do you want James?" she asked coldly when she eventually managed to string a sentence together. "How did you find me?"

"Well I'm a very brilliant man Jenny," he remarked, as though it was obvious. "I've known where you were from the very beginning. I've been tracking your credit cards."

"How – how dare you!" she hissed in complete incredulity. "What gives you the right?"

"You're an employee of a secret sector of the government," he replied in an undertone, leaning towards her. "I always know where you are and what you are doing. That's just the way it is."

"I quit, remember?" she retorted. "You have no right to be keeping tabs on me anymore - "

"Shall we go somewhere more private?" he interrupted sternly, glancing around the pool.

"No," she stated, leaning back on her recliner and replacing her sunglasses on her nose. "I flew all the way out here to get away from you all. I'm not about to listen to anything you have to say."

"Well either you take me up to your hotel room, or I swear to god I will take my shirt off right here and do a little sunbathing of my own," he said, sounding deadly serious. "My chest is awfully pale - "

She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes in disgust. "You wouldn't," she guessed uncertainly.

"Try me," he replied, his fingers at his collar as he undid the top button.

"Urg, alright!" she gasped, horrified as she stood up abruptly. "We can talk in my room."

"Excellent," he smiled, redoing his button with a smug expression that she felt like slapping.

"But that shirt stays on," she remarked as she wrapped the towel around herself, feeling slightly better that her stomach and chest were now hidden from view.

"Well don't feel like you have to follow the same rules," he said, his expression politely innocent.

She tutted and smacked him in the arm before walking off towards the hotel.

* * *

Jenny pulled her dressing gown on over her bikini and immediately began rummaging in her mini bar for another drink, feeling that with James Lester here, she'd be needing one. She poured out a generous helping of whiskey on the rocks into a glass.

"Want one?" she asked Lester as he hovered awkwardly by the bed.

"No thank you," he replied with distaste. "Before I have a drink that strong, I like to eat a big roast dinner and chase it with a gallon of vegetable oil."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, unconcerned as she brought the glass up to her lips and took a large gulp. "So . . ." she said, hesitating slightly as she struggled to ask the question she had burned to vocalise since she had first spotted him. "How – how is . . . _everyone_?" she eventually landed on.

"They're alive," he stated coolly. "Just," he added, looking her up and down as though he blamed her for the last statement.

"Good . . . that's good . . ." she trailed off, taking another sip of her drink for something to do with her hands. "And Cutter?" she eventually worked up the courage to ask. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," he replied, and she didn't know if she was imagining it or not, but she could swear there was a hint of knowing in the way he smiled as he said so. "He doesn't know where you are."

"Oh?" she said, setting her glass down and crossing her arms. "I thought you would have told him, seeing as you've known all along."

"It wasn't my place," he replied, displaying a rather uncharacteristic understanding. "I was fully intending to bring you back anyway. I was going to give you a couple more weeks to come to your senses, but the circumstances have changed over the past few days. I need you back now."

She let out a dry, patronising laugh, crossing her arms tighter around herself. "I'm not coming back James. I'm staying here."

"Like hell you are," he retorted, his temper seemingly bubbling under the surface of the cool exterior of a professional. "What are you playing at here?"

"I'm not playing at anything!" she insisted hotly. "I'm trying to get on with my life!"

"You're trying to run away from your life you mean," he corrected her. "So what's your plan? To say here and waste your talents by lounging around the pool all day and drinking yourself into oblivion?"

"It's none of your business what I'm going to do," she said, giving him a dirty look. "Like I said – you're not my boss anymore."

"You need to snap out of this!" he exclaimed, his detached facade melting away into anger. "So your fiancé died? You grieve, and then you move on, just like everyone else has to - "

"But everyone else isn't responsible for their partners death are they?" she yelled, not knowing where all this rage she was directing at him was coming from.

He paused for a second, breathing hard as he stared her down. "I know this has been really hard for you," he said eventually in a forced-calm voice. "I know you blame yourself, and I know you're carrying around the guilt. But sooner or later, you're going to just have to let it go - "

"That's easy for you to say," she scowled, turning away from him to look blindly out of the window.

"This isn't you," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Drinking all day, not caring about anyone but yourself . . . you're not the woman I know."

"You're right, I'm not anymore," she stated, still not able to look back around at him.

Lester sighed deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration. When he finally straightened up and looked back at her, he seemed to have calmed himself slightly. He reached into his blazer pocket unexpectedly, and to her complete surprise, he pulled out a slightly dog-eared photograph that he abruptly handed over to her. Confused, she took it and looked down at the picture. It showed a rather handsome man who looked like he was in his late thirties. He had short light-brown hair, very chiselled features, and by the way he was dressed in military attire, she gathered that he was a soldier.

"Is this supposed to mean anything to me?" she asked coldly, holding up the photograph.

"That is Captain Wilder," Lester answered abruptly. "He's the Head of Security for Christine Johnson's team."

"Christine . . . ?" Jenny said, completely nonplus.

"Johnson," he repeated patiently. "She's the female equivalent of me, except without any of my natural charm and empathy. Up until recently she was heading the MI5 unit in Jamaica."

"I don't see how this is of any interest to me," Jenny pointed out, growing irritated with him feeding her information in dribs and drabs.

"Well it's quite simple," Lester said, perching on the end of her bed. "Christine has the Minister in her pocket, and as such she's been appointed to manager of the military liaison with the ARC. I know that she wants the ARC – indeed, she's after any position that gives her more power. And I know that she's got her spies working around me, although I can't prove it - "

"Your point James?" Jenny interjected, rather more coldly than was intended.

"My point is that I need you to do some undercover work," he stated, looking her shamelessly in the eye.

Silence fell between them for a moment as she gaped at him.

"You _are_ joking?" she stammered eventually, unable to tell if he was being serious or not.

"When was the last time I dressed as a clown and displayed my impeccable juggling abilities?" he said sarcastically, being purposefully flippant. "I think that you'd be good at undecover work as it happens."

"With him?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, gesturing at the photograph of Captain Wilder.

"To start with, yes," he nodded. "He's rumoured to be her closest confidant in the Home Office. If we crack him, we crack her entire operation - "

"And how on earth am I meant to be _'cracking'_ him?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, her fingers forming air quotes around the word.

"I'm sure you'll be able to think of a way," he remarked, blinking innocently.

She laughed drily and looked away for a moment, trying to digest what he was saying. "And what makes you think I would say yes to going undercover?" she asked eventually. "It's not in my job description. I'm not trained for it."

"Well I think it ties in with your job description quite nicely actually," he reasoned. "You're our Public Relations manager. Your job is damage control. By doing this and finding out information to bring Christine down, you will be doing a huge amount damage limitation. And that aside; it'll be exciting, it'll be hard, and it'll be dangerous. Now tell me you haven't been restless stuck here like a civilian when you know you could be doing so much more."

He paused and watched her smugly, clearly thinking he had her all worked out.

_Well _. . . she thought to herself reluctantly. _Maybe he had_ . . .

She would never admit it to him of course, but he was partially right – she had been agitated here. She had tried working out, drinking all day, sunbathing, spending all day at the beach, and even . . . _other activities _. . . but nothing had been able to fill the void in her left behind by the ARC and all that it entailed. She wasn't a normal person anymore; it wasn't just a job that you could walk away from and forget. The danger, the adrenaline rushes, the strong relationships built there . . . she had been missing it all from day one. The problem was that she no longer felt worthy of the job. She no longer felt like she could handle the responsibility of the position after she had been unable to save Mark.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she answered, a lump rising in her throat as she held the photograph out to him.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said in a light conversational manner, refusing to take the picture of Captain Wilder back off her. "We're both booked on a flight back in a two hours time. I'll be having a delightful drink down in the bar whilst you pack," he continued quickly, seeing her open her mouth furiously to argue back. "Do try and be quick won't you? I should hate to miss our flight and have to fly coach," he finished, giving her a rare smile before sauntering off towards the door.

"James, I - " she tried to argue again, but he had already gone out the door, closing it behind him.


	31. Back

Chapter 31

Cutter sat hunched in the ARC main room, flicking his pen aimlessly against the file on the desk in front of him. He was in the process of trying to map where the anomalies had appeared since he had first became aware of them, but he had paused, considering whether the anomalies that he had faced before the world had gone askew had actually happened in this reality as well. They must have done, he reasoned eventually, making a scribbled note in the corner of the page. The anomalies were too greater force to be manipulated by marginally small alterations in the timeline.

He sat back and sighed, flicking his pen against the table again. He supposed he could try and question the rest of the team about the other anomalies. Surely if he phrased it right; tried to make out like he was having a slight memory lapse or something . . . but the more he thought about it, the more he reasoned that he wasn't too keen on receiving those looks of everyone again; the mingled sympathy and bemusement on their faces that they always had whenever he mentioned something about the alternate reality. No, he didn't want anyone thinking he had lapsed into crazy Cutter again. He was sure he had been close to getting sectioned last time he started raving about the alternate timeline . . .

Suddenly, his pen bounced out of his hands and went flying off, landing a remarkably large distance away. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one had seen that particularly embarrassing stunt, he got to his feet and shuffled around the desk to retrieve it. As he did so, he heard a heavy patter of heels drawing closer, but he ignored it, so absorbed was he in his own thoughts. He bent down with a groan of annoyance and picked up the pen, but before he could straighten up, the sound of the footsteps stopped and he sensed someone standing over him. He glanced up, and all he saw was the rather lovely sight of a long and tanned pair legs in front of him. His gaze travelled up slowly, and when his brain registered who it was, he dropped the pen again in shock.

Jenny.

She was wearing a floaty white dress that contrasted spectacularly with her tanned skin. Her hair was a bit lighter than he remembered, and cut slightly shorter, falling down her shoulders in waves, with a fringe that shaped her face beautifully.

"Hello Nick," she said with a small smile, looking down at him with big brown eyes.

It was at that moment that Cutter realised that he was still crouched down near the floor with his head level with her navel. He abruptly straightened up, ignoring the protesting twinge in his back, and staggered backwards a couple of steps, still unable to stop gaping at her.

She watched him expectantly as thought she thought he was going to say something, but after a few more painful moments, she apparently realised that no words were forthcoming off him. She cleared her throat. "So, how have you been?" she asked with another awkward smile, rubbing her hands together in a compulsive manner.

It was this casual question that shocked Cutter out of his stupor with an angry jolt. "How have I been?" he repeated in incredulity. "How have I _been_? Not a word off you for two months and all you say is how have I been?"

The forced smile on her face faltered, and she dropped her gaze from his, looking resigned. "Nick - " she began in a smaller voice, but she was cut off by Abby and Stephen entering the main room, both talking amongst themselves. They both froze when their eyes fell on Jenny, before Abby clasped her hands together.

"Jenny!" she exclaimed, looking pleasantly surprised. "Wow – I can't believe your back! You look amazing!"

"Thanks," Jenny smiled warmly, looking slightly happier with that marginally warmer reception.

"Where have you been?" Abby asked curiously, positively beaming at her. "Anywhere nice?"

"The South of France," Jenny replied, her eyes flicking to Stephen. "I just needed to clear my head for a while."

"Of course you did," Abby said sympathetically with an understanding nod.

Cutter's still-disbelieving eyes were drawn to Stephen, who seemed to be watching him out of the corner of his eye, as if to see his reaction to Jenny's sudden re-appearance.

"Jenny?" Lester's voice travelled down from the ramp. Everyone looked up at him, and Cutter saw that the man didn't appear at all surprised by Jenny's return. This did nothing to improve his mood. "A word," Lester continued, beckoning at Jenny to join him in his office.

Jenny nodded in acknowledgement, and after giving Abby a small smile, she proceeded up the ramp, refusing to meet Cutter in the eye again.

* * *

All day, Cutter could barely sit still, his brain racing with a thousand thoughts a second. She was _back_. She had just breezed into his life again, seemingly unapologetic, not even comprehending that she was playing havoc with his mind. A month ago, he would have given anything to see those legs as he glanced up; given anything to hear those heels clicking loudly on the floor in the distance . . . but now? Now, he was just left with an empty hollowness in his stomach that her return had failed to fill. He was so mad at her; mad at her for leaving in the first place, mad at her for not getting in touch . . . but what really _really_ incensed him was the way she had just sauntered in and started talking to him like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't abandoned them all. And what was worse – she clearly expected him to act like everything was normal as well. The _nerve_ of her!

Breathing hard through his nostrils in anger and pacing around his office, Cutter could practically feel the steam issuing out of his ears. This wasn't right – she had no right to just act like they had never meant anything to each other. He begrudgingly understood her need for them to break things off romantic-wise, but he had thought he had meant more to her than this.

Clearly not.

In fact, what was so infuriating about the whole thing was that her return forcefully reminded him of another woman who had reappeared unexpectedly in his life – Helen. Jenny had returned out-of-the-blue and with no warning, just like Helen had, and in much the same way had just expected to be forgiven for everything they'd put him through. Well no – he wasn't having it anymore!

Wrenching his office door open viciously, Cutter stomped off in the direction of the main room, needing to get some answers from her before he could even begin to comprehend her return. One glance up at Lester's glass-windowed office told him that she was no longer in there, and so instead he stormed off towards her office, still seething. Without even thinking of knocking, he threw open the door aggressively, and was utterly blind-sided when he was confronted with the sight of Jenny stepping onto a short black dress, her former white dress discarded on the floor.

She gasped, looking up at him in surprise. "Nick!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, frozen at the door, his anger dissipating into a mortifying shock. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd seen her in her underwear, but still . . .

She huffed and quickly pulled her dress up, before fixing him with a withering stare. "Well it's nothing you haven't seen before," she said quietly as she pulled up the zip on her back.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, closing the door behind him and stepping deeper into the office.

"It's fine," she said coolly, bending down and picking up the white dress.

"Why are you changing?" he asked, his curiosity outstripping his anger for the time being.

"I just feel like it," she answered evasively as she turned and began stuffing the old dress into a bag. "What can I do for you?"

"Well an explanation would be nice," he replied, unable to stop his voice being brittle. He saw her shoulders tense, and she was clearly bracing herself for an argument, although this did nothing to sooth him. "Not _one_ phone call Jenny," he said, his words wavering with the fury he was desperately trying to suppress.

"I know," she sighed, turning round and perching on the edge of her desk. "I know - "

"Two months, and not one bloody word off you," he interrupted, his anger starting to bubble and spill over.

"Nick - "

"I mean, I know you've broken things off between us," he cut her off again, wanting to get everything off his chest now that he had started. "But I thought you at least cared enough about me to let me know you were okay - "

"I do!" she protested as she shot to her feet, looking stung by his words.

"Then why haven't I heard a thing off you for month?" he demanded, taking a step closer to her. "Hmm? I thought I meant more to you than that - "

"You do!" she interjected, her brow furrowed. "I wanted to call you. I thought about doing it all the time - "

"Then why didn't you?" he yelled, his temper getting the better of him. "What, are you too selfish to be able to think about somebody else for a change?"

"That's not fair," she said, her voice breaking and her expression looking pained.

"No Jenny – what's not fair is you deserting us all without even the decency to tell us if and when you'd be back!" he barked, not in the least bit calmed by the hurt in her eyes. "_Why_ didn't you call me? _Why _couldn't you - ?"

"Because I blame you!" she exploded suddenly, her cheeks flushing with anger. "Okay? I blame _you_ for Mark's death. I blame you for having an affair with me, and I blame you for not saving him in the forest. Are you happy now? Is that what you want to hear?"

Cutter froze, an unexpected pain stabbing at his heart. He had known she was having a hard time getting over the guilt of their relationship, but to say that she actually _blamed_ him for it? To say that it was his fault that Mark died? How could she even think that . . .?

Jenny sniffed to compose herself and flicked her fringe out of her eyes. "I have to go," she said unexpectedly in a shaky voice as she grabbed her handbag from her desk.

"Where?" he asked quietly, still waiting for the pain of her words to subside.

"Out," she stated simply, not meeting him in the eye as she passed him.

* * *

**This chapter will make more sense when I write the next one :) hope you enjoyed x**


	32. The target

**This is my last update for a while I'm afraid due to my urgent need to start sudying some drugs (legal ones that is :p) I will try and update if I have a couple of spare hours x**

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Chapter 32

Jenny sat in the car, parked outside a bar that she had followed Captain Wilder to from the Home Office. She had been fully briefed by Lester about his role within Christine Johnson's team, and they had discussed possible tactics for getting herself planted into a position to be able to gain any Intel on their plans. Lester himself had seemed keen on her first exploring this Wilder as an option, although how far he wanted her to push it was left up in the air; seemingly he trusted Jenny's ability to be able to judge that for herself. She however couldn't fathom what a bit of flirting with a trained soldier was going to get them. Still, she was following orders, and Lester seemed to have a lot of confidence in her ability to be able to dig for information. So she'd give it a try, she supposed. Even if he showed no interest, they won't have lost anything.

As Jenny pulled her mirror down and began applying a fresh coat of lipstick, her mind suddenly skipped back to her run-in with Cutter this afternoon, and she cringed before she could help herself. She had said some very horrid things to him; things she didn't even mean. Yes, she did find it difficult to be around him; he was a constant reminder of how she had betrayed Mark before his death. But she knew that she had been the one who had made her promises to Mark – it was she, and not Cutter, who was supposed to have loyalties to him and she had broke them of her own accord. That aside, she remembered very vividly the affair being her idea in the first place. But there was a small part of her – some treacherous and unforgiving part – that couldn't help but hold Cutter responsible for Mark being killed. Cutter was in charge of field operations – he was their leader, and it was his responsibility to keep casualties to a minimum. He had saved a lot of people in the past, and Jenny couldn't help but feel that he didn't do all he could to save Mark from the jaws of that horrible creature. She knew that she was being unfair and unreasonable, but that was just the way she felt, and at the moment there seemed to be no way of changing that.

Realising that she was allowing her focus to drift, Jenny shook herself mentally, reasoning that now was not the time to be thinking about Cutter. She should be focusing on the task at hand. As she pursued her lips together and considered her make-up in the mirror for a moment, she felt a prickle of nerves in her stomach when she suddenly realised what it was she was about to do. What if she wasn't Captain Wilders type? What if he already knew who she was thanks to information passed to Johnson's team by some ARC plant? Still, there was some reckless and irresponsible part of her that felt something else. She knew what it was - it was excitement. She had been craving the rush of adrenaline that dangerous situations brought ever since she had left the ARC behind all those months ago, and this undercover work was just the ticket.

Taking a deep calming breath, Jenny snapped the mirror back into place and got out of the car. She smoothed down the tight black dress she had changed into, and ignoring her trembling hand, she walked over to the pub entrance.

* * *

The pub was small and cramped, with a lot of overly-pompous paintings lining the walls and soft tinny music playing in the background. The place was full of middle aged men in suits, all chatting in dull and supremely boring voices to their companions as Jenny walked over to the bar. She felt a lot of eyes on her as she went, but she ignored them, her mind firmly on one thing. She spotted Wilder over in the far corner, looking in deep conversation with one of his colleagues as he absently sipped a bottle of beer. Jenny slid into one of the stools lining the bar, making sure that she was firmly in his sights as she ordered herself a whiskey chaser, feeling the need for strong liquor to calm her racing pulse. She necked it back in one go as she watched her target like a hawk. She made sure that she didn't stare to much or else it would look too suspicious, but she ensured that he didn't make a movement without her seeing it out of the corner of her eye.

As time passed slowly, Jenny ordered herself more shots, more so to look like she was here of her own accord rather than for Dutch courage. A few times, she noticed that Wilder's gaze was drawn to her over his friends shoulder, and when it did so, she made sure that their eyes met before she abruptly turned her attention back to her half empty shot glass.

At long last, she watched closely as Wilder's friend clapped him on the back before making his way to the exit. She tilted her head back and let the rest of her drink trickle down her throat before placing the glass back down. "Same again please," she said in a falsely-unsteady voice to the barman.

"I'll get that," a gruff voice said from behind her, a twang of a Manchester accent discernable.

She turned and with a rush of excitement, she saw that it was Wilder. She disguised her satisfaction by looking him up and down coldly, not wanting to appear too keen. "No thank you," she stated as she turned back to the bar, knowing that playing hard to get usually made men more persistent.

"You've got something against a man buying a beautiful woman a drink?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he leaned his back on the bar, folding his arms.

"I can buy my own drinks thanks," she said coolly as she looked back round at him, unable to stop herself from noticing how much more attractive he looked in the flesh compared to his photograph.

"I'm sure you can," he smirked, turning to face her properly. "But you can't deny that you've barely been able to keep your eyes off me since you got here."

She chuckled and blinked, knowing that men like him couldn't resist big eyes. "Is that right?"

"Absolutely," he nodded with an air of confidence that she actually found herself drawn in by. "Joseph Wilder," he added as he extended his hand to her.

She paused for a moment, looking from his hand to his face with a wry smile. "Jenny," she conceded eventually, placing her hand in his.

He shook it firmly, his grey eyes holding her gaze. "Well it's lovely to meet you Jenny."

The barman placed their drinks down in front of them, and Jenny immediately pulled her chaser towards her, taking a large gulp.

"Are you here waiting for your husband then?" Wilder asked, glancing absently at the door as she placed her glass back down.

She chuckled, covering for the pang in her heart as she thought of Mark. "I'm not married," she informed him, circling the rim of her glass with her fingertip.

"Well you do surprise me," he stated, taking a swig of his fresh beer. "I thought someone would have snapped you up long before now."

"Many have tried, and many have failed," Jenny said with a repressed smile, focusing her attention back on her drink.

He laughed heartily, leaning in to her slightly. "So what's a pretty woman such as yourself doing in a dump like this then?" he asked.

She looked back at him, slightly overwhelmed by how charming she found him. "I don't know – what's a refined guy such as yourself doing in a dump like this?"

He smirked, his dark eyes twinkling. "Touché," he said, sounding amused. "If you must know, I'm unwinding from a long day at work."

"Snap," she replied, as she picked up her drink again.

"Oh yeah? What do you do then?" he questioned curiously.

She knocked back the rest of her chaser. "I'm a beauty therapist," she lied easily, wincing with the harsh taste as she placed her glass back down.

"You should be a dab hand at that, a knock out like you," he remarked, sipping his beer again.

"Hmm," she agreed casually, resting her elbow on the bar and running her hand through her hair. "Well sometimes I think that if I ever have to listen to another bored housewife drivel on about her cheating husband, I'm going to scream," she smiled, the PR genius in her spinning these lies as easily as it was to say the alphabet.

"God, no wonder you need a drink then," he laughed, gesturing at the barman to get her another.

"So what is it you do?" she asked, ensuring that her words were slightly slurred to give off the impression that she was intoxicated.

"Well if I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he replied with a mischievous grin. "Do you fancy doing something tonight?" he added, changing the subject abruptly.

"Like what?" she asked as the barman slid her shot over to her.

"We could go for a drink?" he suggested.

She picked up her glass, and held it up. "We're having a drink now," she pointed out, smiling ruefully.

"Or dinner?" he added with a grin as he leaned into her more. "Whatever you fancy."

She inhaled slowly, purposefully looking him up and down. "Well I've definitely seen something I fancy," she remarked with a raised eyebrow, making her meaning perfectly clear.

He laughed, and she was surprised to find that she actually liked the sound. "Can I have your number then?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"No," she replied cryptically. "But you can give me yours. I can call you if I _fancy_ doing something."

He paused for a moment, a smile playing on his thin lips as he stared at her. Then with a slight chuckle, he retrieved a pen from his pocket and pulled a beer mat over to him. She watched him scribble down a mobile number along the side of it, before he slid it over to her. Her fingertips caught the edge of it.

"Make sure you use that," he said with a wink, his voice intriguingly commanding. "I reckon I could show you the time of your life."

"Oh really?" she laughed in disbelief.

"Really," he nodded, stepping even closer to her.

It was only when she felt his cool breath tickle her lips that she realised that he was going to kiss her. She froze for a fraction of a second, reluctant to take things that far considering the fact that this was just a job. But the moment his lips brushed up against hers, all professional thoughts were blown completely out of the water and she parted her lips to allow the contact to deepen. She didn't know whether it was the danger he posed, or just the fact that he represented her freedom from thoughts of Mark and Cutter, but for some reason she found Captain Wilder to be extremely attractive. She was breathless by the time he pulled back with a tiny nip of her bottom lip.

He pressed his cheek up against hers to speak into her ear. "Call me," he murmured in a husky voice, sliding the beer mat with his number on it closer to her.

And with that, he pulled back, holding her gaze before turning and following his long-since departed friend out of the door. Jenny turned back to her drink, unable to stop herself smiling. It seems she was going to rather enjoy her charge after all. She waited for a sufficient amount of time to pass before she downed the rest of her drink and got to her feet. She left herself, taking the beer mat with her.


	33. Removed from the system

**Yeyyy! Exams are over! It might be too late to resurrect this story, but I shall have a go at breathing some life into it none-the-less. Enjoy x**

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Chapter 33

Jenny's heels clicked repetitively on the pristinely polished floor of the ARC as she walked down the corridor. She checked her watch as she went, noting with warm relief that it was half seven in the morning and thankfully too early for Cutter and the rest of the team to be in. It had been that thought that had got her out of bed at an ungodly hour that morning, her desire to make her report to Lester without the danger of running into Cutter winning out over her need for beauty sleep. She knew that Lester would be sure to be in despite the earliness of the hour; indeed, she often wondered if the man ever left the place. Then again, she thought as she pushed open the door to the main room, he was probably worried what Cutter would do if left alone here for too long –

She bumped headlong into someone, wrenching her out of her thoughts with a nasty jolt.

"Ouch!" she gasped, staggering backwards and clutching her pounding forehead.

"Sorry," Cutter mumbled, his hand to his head also and his face contorted with pain. "You alright?"

"I'll tell you when the feeling returns to my face," she muttered, straightening up and glaring at him. "I know you're angry with me, but head butting me is a little extreme don't you think?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his hand falling to his side. "It was an accident. Although it wouldn't kill you to look where you're going - "

The anomaly detector alarm blared out suddenly and unexpectedly, making them both start. Cutter looked her up and down before turning and heading towards the screaming detector, and after a slight pause, Jenny reluctantly followed him.

"Where is it?" she asked coldly, looking over his shoulder as he frantically typed to get the coordinates.

"Give me a minute . . ." he said, distracted as his gaze scanned the flashing screens. Then his eyes narrowed and a crease appeared in between his eyebrows. "The signal keeps going - "

"Jenny?" Lester's voice sounded over the shrill alarm. She looked up to see him standing on the balcony overlooking the room. "A word if you please?" he shouted, his face furrowed with distaste at the noise.

"Now?" she said with a frown. "But there's an anomaly - "

"I'm sure the Scooby doo gang will be able to handle it by themselves," he replied, sounding unconcerned. "And for the last time," he added to Cutter, "tell Connor to turn that bloody alarm down or I'll have to get a hearing aid fitted soon!" he barked as he retreated back into his office.

Jenny exchanged a fleeting glance with Cutter, before making her way up the ramp and following her boss into his office. She shut the glass door behind her, muffling the sound of the blaring alarm. Lester had already retreated behind his desk, and gestured for her to take a seat opposite him.

"How did it go?" he asked as she perched on the chair, displaying his usual knack of getting straight to the point. "Did you manage to make contact?"

"I did more than that," Jenny replied smugly as she sat back. "He asked for my number - which I refused - and in the end he gave me his. He told me to give him a call if I fancied doing something. "

"Excellent," he said with an approving nod, giving her a very rare smile. "I knew you would do it. Have you called him yet?"

"No," she said as she crossed her legs and folded her arms. "And I'm not going to either."

The smile on Lester's face vanished as quickly as it had come. Placing the tips of his fingers together and leaning back in his chair, he stared at her for a moment. "So you're having second thoughts about this?" he asked, his tone cool.

"Not at all," she replied smoothly. She had already thought every possible angle through as she had tossed and turned the night before, and she had fully made her mind about how she was going to handle the situation. "But if I call him, he will lose interest," she continued in a light and conversational manner.

Lester frowned, looking slightly puzzled. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I know men," she answered simply. "They lose interest if a woman seems too attainable. It's just how you're all wired."

His face remained impassive, but Jenny could have sworn the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a repressed smile. "So what's your brilliant plan then?" he asked, reclining back in his chair more.

"I'm going to give it a couple of days, and then ensure that he and I _'bump'_" – her fingers formed air quotes around the word – "into each other again. It shouldn't be too difficult."

"Indeed," he said with a twang of scepticism in his voice. "And you're sure you can do this?"

She paused for a second, wondering if he was beginning to doubt her ability to do her job. "Absolutely," she replied in the most self-assured voice she could muster. "It's not getting in with him that'll be the problem – it'll be what to do after then."

"And by that you mean?" he pushed in the same bored voice as though they were discussing the latest issue of Cosmo and not their plans to infiltrate a competing government branch.

"Well – what exactly am I looking for?" she asked, voicing the thought that had been on her mind since he had first suggested this lunacy.

"Anything to do with Christine Johnson, or what she might be up to," he said, his usually indifferent voice not quite concealing his longing for information. "Wilder's bound to slip up. Maybe he has some incriminating computer files or some papers? Just get me anything – _anything_ – to bring Christine down."

Jenny laughed humourlessly, feeling a pulse of unjustified frustration. "You make it sound so easy. How on earth am I meant to get my hands on papers and such?"

Lester shrugged, looking unconcerned. "He's bound to have some incriminating evidence in his house."

She let out another dry laugh, unable to hide her incredulity. "And how do you imagine I will get an invite to his home without having to - ?" she cut herself off as she felt a flush creeping across her cheek. This conversation was straying into very uncomfortable territory.

Lester, however, seemed unfazed. "Well I'm sure you'll think of some way to do it. And I trust your judgment. I'm confident that you won't compromise your . . . _professional_ standards again."

Jenny winced inwardly at the word 'again', wondering if he was referring to her affair that had led to Marks death. She was still confident that he wasn't fully aware that it was Cutter with whom she had been unfaithful with, but someone as astute as Lester was bound to have his suspicions. Still, he had given her this undercover task, showing that he at least trusted her enough to get the job done. "Of course I won't," she answered quickly, batting away the image of the kiss she'd exchanged with Wilder the previous night that still shone resonant in her mind. "But say I do managed to get into his house, and things go wrong - " she began to ask.

"You can call me, and I will have a military team over there in minutes," Lester interrupted simply. "You'll be quite safe."

Jenny immediately became defensive at the implication of his comment. "Well that's not quite what I meant," she said, worried he'd gotten the mistaken idea that it was her own safety she was worried about, which quite frankly she couldn't give a toss about. "I just mean that if I blow my cover and he finds out who I am, the last opportunity to find out what Christine is up to will be gone."

"Hence why I'm counting on you to succeed," he replied, not a hint of humour in his voice.

Jenny sighed and looked up at the ceiling, feeling the crushing weight of obligation on her shoulders. "So no pressure then?" she joked, masking her nerves.

"Quite," Lester nodded, getting to his feet slowly. "And by the way," he added as he buttoned up his blazer. "It'll probably be prudent for you to avoid the ARC for a while. If things go as we hope, and then you're seen here by the wrong people - "

"I understand," she interrupted, not particularly fazed about the prospect of not being able to see the ARC and the people in it for a short while. It would probably give her the time she needed to adjust to being back in a life she had tried so hard to run away from.

"And I'm going to have you removed from our computer systems," Lester continued as an afterthought.

She looked up at him, frowning in confusion. "Why?"

"Just a precaution," he said airily. "In case Wilder background checks you. Officially, it'll be like you've never worked here."

Jenny chuckled as she got to her feet also. "Oh that that were true," she said in a falsely-wistful voice before giving him a curt nod and turning to leave.

"I want daily reports Jenny," Lester said after her. "You know how I worry about my staff when they don't get in touch."

Jenny couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, or whether that was a dig at her moonlight flit to France. His sarcastic comments did having a way of shrouding his meanings, making it rather difficult on some occasions to know what the man was thinking. Still, she nodded in acknowledgment before pulling the office door open.

As she made her way back down the ramp, she noticed absently that the anomaly detector now stood silent, its screens flickering innocently as it continuously monitored the UK. There was no sign of Cutter and the others, telling her that they had already left for the anomaly site. Probably for the best, Jenny thought as she walked towards the exit. She would hate to have to say goodbye again after such a short time being back, especially since she couldn't explain to them why she was leaving again anyway. Hopefully she could get this undercover business out of the way and be back in a couple of weeks with something on Christine Johnson, and then nobody would be none-the-wiser as to why she had been incommunicado. And by way Nick had reacted to her reappearance, it was clear that he was taking her being back about as well as she was. Maybe some space . . . some time to get used to the idea of her returning . . . maybe it was exactly what they both needed. She would certainly find it more difficult to assume another identity for this undercover job if she had to see Cutter everyday; he being a constant reminder of who she was, and what she wanted. If she was going to do this spy business, she was going to fully commit to it, and that meant leaving Cutter and the ARC behind until she had got what she wanted.

Lester would be sure to make up a good excuse for her absence anyway, she thought to herself as she climbed into her car, taking one final look at the building before she started up the engine.

She didn't look back as she drove away.


	34. Interference

Chapter 34

Stephen quickly placed his hands on the dashboard as Cutter made another jolting turn en route to the anomaly site. Suppressing the urge to scowl with difficulty, Stephen straightened up and glanced around at his friend in aspiration, but so familiar was he to Nick's mood swings by now that he didn't even bother calling him on it. He was staring straight out of the window with his jaw set, and his expression grim – the same as it had been since Jenny had waltzed back into his life after two solid months of silence. Stephen didn't even pretend to know what had gone on between the two of them – whether it had been them seeking mutual comfort in the other, whether it had just been a bit of fun on both parts, or whether it had gone deeper than that. All he knew was that whatever had happened upon her return had left Cutter even more sullen and irritable than he was when Jenny was AWOL.

The ironic thing was that now that Jenny had apparently ended things with Cutter, Stephen found himself more and more empathetic towards her. He knew the guilt she must be feeling about her infidelity all too well considering he had been on the receiving end of his own shame; but at least his affair had never lead to anyone being hurt. Well physically anyway. He also respected how hard it must have been for her to break things off with Cutter to respect the dignity of her dead fiancé. Turning Helen down for the sake of Cutter's friendship had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, and so he fully understood the pain that Jenny had to bear. He respected anyone with that much self control, and even more so the fact that she had been able to return to the ARC, head held high. That had took some guts. He only wished that Cutter didn't have to suffer as a result of it.

"Which way?" Cutter asked gruffly.

Stephen looked down and studied the hand-held detector for a moment. "Next right, then straight down," he confirmed, bracing himself for another sharp turn.

Sure enough, seconds later, Stephen found himself hurdling into the side of the door as the car practically skidded around the corner. This time, thanks to a blinding smack on the head, he couldn't contain the scowl as well as he had done before.

Cutter glanced around at him, his expression still stony. "What?" he said in an argumentative tone, clearly wanting to start a row to get rid of some of his pent up anger.

"Nothing," Stephen replied through gritted teeth, unwilling to allow himself to be the verbal punching bag.

"No, go on," Cutter pushed, obviously unwilling to let this one go.

Stephen sighed inwardly – the last thing he wanted was to have a futile argument in the confines of a car with someone he didn't really want to be rowing with in the first place. "You're just driving a bit erratically, that's all," he said carefully, trying not to poke the sleeping dragon. "Something on your mind?"

"Yes – getting to the anomaly site before a creature comes through is on my mind," Cutter snapped back. "Maybe you should put your seat belt on if you can't handle it."

Stephen held his tongue with difficulty and set his gaze blindly out of the window. Oh how he wished he had went in the car with Abby and Connor instead.

"Maybe you should get behind the wheel next time if you don't like the way I drive?" Cutter continued, clearly on a mission to get a rise out of him before the drive was out.

Stephen cleared his throat, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. _Why couldn't the man just let things go? _It was this antagonism that drove the next question out of Stephen's mouth before he could prevent his lips from forming the words. "So is Jenny not joining us this time?"

Cutter's shoulders immediately tensed, and his cheeks flushed slightly. "How the hell would I know?" he said shortly.

"Well you two are pretty close," Stephen shrugged with a feigned casualness.

Cutter was silent for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned chalk white. "Not anymore," he said eventually in a voice barely above a whisper, his eyes still set on the road ahead. "We're just – just friends now."

It was that unexpected admission, however fictitious it was, that shocked Stephen out of his anger. He sighed, relaxing back into his seat. "Well that's not true is it?" he said, hoping that Cutter wasn't about to explode again.

"What?" Cutter said, glancing round at him with a contorted expression.

"Well, I mean that from the time you two first met . . ." Stephen tried to explain himself, "well . . . you've never been _friends_, have you?"

Nick looked back at the road, although his expression had softened considerably. He let out a small, unexpected chuckle. "Well you're probably right there," he said in a much warmer voice.

"Look, maybe if you just talk - " Stephen began to say now that he was confident Cutter wasn't about to fly off the handle, but he stopped talking as a very strange sight met his eyes.

They were approaching where the hand-held detector had predicted the anomaly was, and sure enough, a definite twinkling was discernable bouncing off the brick walls of an alleyway up ahead. But that wasn't the peculiar thing – there was a large black van parked outside the alley. Two men dressed in soldier attire were in the midst of closing the van doors, and as they did so, the vehicle swayed ominously in a way that clearly showed that something inside there was putting up a good fight. As Cutter and Stephen pulled up, one of the soldiers glanced around. His face was roughly sculpted, and his eyes dark and piercing, glinting malevolently at them under thick eyebrows. His hair was short and light-brown, with refined flecks of grey at the sides despite the fact he looked no older than forty.

The soldier considered their car for a moment, his eyes scanning their license plate suspiciously. Then he quickly gestured to his companion, and in a spit second they had rounded the vehicle and opened the van doors.

"Oi!" Cutter shouted as he scrambled to get out of the car. "STOP!"

Stephen followed suit and got out himself, squinting to try and work out what on earth was going on. Both he and Cutter started sprinting towards the van in unison, but by the time they reached it, it was driving off down the road at full speed, still swaying chillingly.

Cutter stopped, panting heavily as he ran his hands back through his hair, watching the mysterious van disappear off into the distance. Then they both glanced down the alleyway to see the anomaly glittering at them innocently in the early morning sunshine. Regaining his breath, Cutter looked back around, and Stephen recognised the same bemusement in his expression that must have shown on his own face.

"What the hell was that all about?" Cutter said, sounding utterly perplexed.

* * *

"And you're sure of this?" Lester demanded, leaning forward on his desk, a chill running up his spine at what he was hearing.

"_Yes!_" Cutter exhaled, sounding thoroughly frustrated.

"They drove away as soon as they saw us," Stephen interjected, looking grim. "One of them recognised our license plate - "

"Which means they know who we are," Cutter finished his sentence for him, looking at Lester expectantly. "Anything you want to tell us?"

"I'm as surprised about this as you are," Lester replied truthfully – yes, he had known that Christine Johnson was up to _something_, but to order her soldiers to interfere at an anomaly sight? How had they known where it was? And what had they done there?

"And you say you think there was something in the van?" Lester questioned again. "Was it a creature?"

"We didn't see anything," Stephen corrected him.

"But it did look like something was trapped in there," Cutter added, displaying his impeccable ability to covey so much stress with so few words.

"Wonderful," Lester said bitterly, more to himself than anyone else. "Christine's behind it – I'd bet my life on it."

"Really?" Stephen said, his voice sounding intrigued.

"Well maybe not my life," Lester replied with a shrug, trying not to let his tenseness show through his voice. "Maybe a few fingers - "

"This isn't funny," Cutter interrupted sternly. "If she's got a way to detect the anomalies before us - "

"Yes, I'm well aware of the implications Cutter," Lester interrupted firmly. "And I'm dealing with it. Now if you wouldn't mind getting on with your work and actually earning that overly-generous salary - "

"What do you mean you're 'dealing with it'?" Cutter asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"It means that I am handling Christine Johnson, and it requires no intervention on your part," Lester replied, hoping his cold voice would make Cutter think twice about delving too deep into the issue. "Now go and get Connor to run a full diagnostic on the Anomaly Detector – and if there's any spyware, get rid of it. I'll handle the rest."

Cutter and Stephen both stared at him, looking as though they had a dozen more questions to ask each.

"That'll be all," Lester added, waving his hand to dismiss them.

They both exchanged an aspirated glance with each other before reluctantly turning and trotting off to the main room. As the door shut behind them, Lester let out a long, frustrated sigh and sat back in his chair.

"What _are_ you up to Christine?" he whispered to himself, his blood pressure beginning to creep up again.


	35. The coffee shop

Chapter 35

Jenny took a deep breath to steady herself, before pushing open the door to the coffee shop that she had followed Wilder to, her heart hammering somewhere in her throat. If she was honest with herself, she was beginning to feel like creepy stalker herself, but – she reminded herself for the fifteenth time – it was her job. She had planned this run-in for the past couple of days, and she was convinced she could get him ask her out again. As she entered the shop, the warm waft of coffee beans met her, immediately making her feel more relaxed. She walked up to the till, and for the briefest of moments, she allowed her eyes to flicker towards the corner where Wilder was sitting, his nose buried in a newspaper, and one hand around his half-empty coffee mug. She instantly withdrew her gaze and focused instead on the harassed-looking young woman on the other side of the counter.

"A large coffee please," Jenny said, hoping that her voice would carry in such a small shop but at the same time not allowing herself to look around again.

"To go?" the young woman asked in an impatient tone.

"Yes," Jenny replied, rapping her nails on the counter as she fought with the urge to turn around.

The barista nodded in acknowledgement, and busied herself with the coffee machine. She eventually plonked the large cup down on the counter. "That'll be £3.45," she said shortly.

Jenny was half way through opening her purse when the voice she had been hoping to hear sounded behind her shoulder.

"I'll get that," Wilder said as he passed a five pound note over the counter.

Jenny turned, a convincingly surprised look on her face. "Are you following me Mr Wilder?" she said in a joking tone as she scooped up her coffee.

"Ah so you do remember my name?" he laughed as he collected his change off the barista. "Pity my number didn't stick in your head."

"Well yes it is a pity," she sighed mockingly. "Especially as it seems that with you, I'd never have to pay for another drink myself."

He smiled as they moved away from the growing queue of caffeine-withdrawn people. "A woman like you is too beautiful to pay for her own drinks."

She laughed genuinely. "And the world has just rotated backwards on its axis. Do those sexist comments actually work on woman?"

"Until now apparently," he chuckled, leading her over to his table. "Will you join me?" he added, gesturing down at the chair.

She shook her head with an apologetic look. "As you can see, my coffee is to go," she said, holding up her coffee cup as evidence. "I'm a busy woman."

"Well clearly – someone's got to tend to all those bored housewives of yours," he remarked, and for a spit second she wondered what on earth he was going on about. Then she realised that he was indeed referring to her cover story of being a beauty therapist, and she immediately chided herself – it was a major failure on her part to not to remember the lies she had span him. He pulled the chair out for her, clearly not taking no for an answer. "But seeing as you owe me for not calling, I think a quick coffee is the least you could do."

She smiled and considered him for a moment. Of course, she'd had no intention of leaving – but she'd be damned if she'd let him know that. "Five minutes," she said eventually as she perched down on the seat.

"That's all I'm asking for," he said smoothly as he slid into the chair opposite her. "I clearly didn't make much of an impression last time, so let's see if I can do a little better this time."

Jenny slid her coat off, and noticed his eyes linger on her chest before travelling back to her face. "I get a lot of numbers," she informed him with a smile.

"I don't doubt that," he said, before taking a gulp from his large mug. "But none of those other numbers are off me."

Jenny let out a laugh again. "God, no one can accuse you of being modest can they?"

"Not at all," he smiled back. "So what time shall I pick you up tonight?" he added out of the blue.

"Excuse me?" she laughed in incredulity.

"Tonight. When shall I pick you up?" he repeated, not a hint of a reaction on his handsome face.

She repressed a grin with difficultly, finding his forcefulness rather engaging. "And what makes you think that I'd agree to go out with you tonight?" she asked with feigned curiosity.

"Because you want to," he answered simply.

She fixed him with a withering stir. "I wouldn't bank on that," she replied with a hint of smugness in her voice. "I've actually got plans tonight," she added, lying easily.

"Well that is a shame," he said, his eyes holding hers in a way that she had never experienced before. "With anyone special?"

"Maybe," she answered cryptically, wanting to nurture his jealousy as much as possible.

"Hmm," he sighed, taking another gulp of his coffee. "And tell me – how would your man feel about you being here with me right now?"

At his words, her mind reluctantly and unexpectedly jumped to Cutter, and before she could help it, her chest convulsed. _Stop it, _she thought to herself firmly, _that's not going to happen anymore . . . _"Well I'd imagine he wouldn't be very happy about it," she replied stiffly.

"Hmm," he said again, leaning towards her slightly. "Then why don't you blow him off and come out with me instead?" he pushed, his voice commanding.

She laughed again, and looked away for a moment to give off the impression she was thinking it through. When she looked back, she found him watching her expectantly. With a resigned smile, she reached in her hand bag and fished out a pen. Then, she reached forward and pulled his arm towards her. Pushing up his sleeve, she wrote her number across his inner arm.

"And how do I know you're giving me your right number?" he asked in an amused voice whilst she finished the last digit.

"You don't," she replied simply as she placed the top on her pen.

He smirked and pulled back his arm, but as he did so, something on the other side of it caught her eye. There were three deep gashes running down it, looking like deep claw marks.

"How on earth did you do that?" she asked with a frown as she gestured down to his arm.

Wilder hastily pulled his sleeve down, his expression cool. "Work," he replied simply.

"What do you work with – tigers?" she joked, although she felt a little niggle of suspicion that whatever inflicted that wound on him was a lot bigger than any cat alive today.

He gave her a strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So I'll give you a ring later then yeah? Set something up for tonight?" he said, changing the subject abruptly.

She nodded with a forced smile of her own, before she got to her feet. "Time to get back to those bored housewives," she added with a sigh as she scooped up her coat.

"Well do give them my regards," he smiled as he stood up also. She chuckled before turning to walk away. "Hang on," he said suddenly after her, halting her in her tracks. "I don't even know your full name?"

"It's Jenny - " she began, before she stopped, a red light going off in her head, telling her that giving him her real last name would be a mistake. "Jenny Brown," she finished automatically.

"Beautiful," he commented with a curt nod.

She rolled her eyes with a suppressed smile. "I'll see you tonight," she said, giving him a reproachful look before she pulled the door open, and stepped out into the intense sunshine.

It was only what she was in her car that she actually realised that she had picked the name 'Brown', and it suddenly dawned on her why. Claudia Brown – the name that still swam around her subconscious – for some reason it had escaped her mouth before she could think about it. Although it was probably fitting that she was using that woman's last name for her cover, Jenny thought bitterly as she started up the car. After all, Cutter had seen her as Claudia – that was the only reason he had wanted her in the first place. She supposed it was rather apt that now she was stepping into her supposed 'counterparts' shoes for this undercover work.

Cutter would be thrilled, she though resentfully as she pulled her car away.


	36. The first date

Chapter 36

The place that Wilder had taken Jenny to was a beautiful bar hidden away in the cobbled backstreets of Covent Garden. The room was dark and modern-looking, with candles flickering in each of the black booths and crimson hangings draping from the black and silver walls. The place was bathed in a dim glow cast by an ornate chandelier dangling from the centre of the ceiling. As they sat and talked their way through a bottle of champagne, it suddenly struck Jenny that another lifetime ago – with another person by her side - she would have actually found this place romantic. But here and now, after everything she'd been through . . . this was strictly business. Or at least that was what she kept telling herself as she raised the champagne glass to her lips. But the more the alcohol and conversation flowed, the more Jenny found it difficult to distinguish this date from any other.

As they finished off a bottle, the waiter materialised by their table. "More champagne Sir?" he asked in a simpering voice.

"Not for me thank you," Wilder replied shortly, not even bothering to look around. "But some for the lady."

"Right away Sir," the waiter nodded before he disappeared off.

"You're not drinking anymore?" Jenny asked Wilder curiously as she set her empty glass down.

"I'm on call tonight," he explained, reaching forward and resting his hand on hers. An immediate electric spark shot through her, such that she hadn't experienced since she and Cutter had begun seeing each other. "I probably won't be needed, but just in case," he added, seemingly unaware of the effect his touch had upon her.

"Ah this mysterious job of yours," Jenny began wistfully, seizing her opportunity as her heart rate returned to normal. "I'm beginning to think you're a spy," she added, aware of the irony of her words even if he wasn't.

He chuckled and squeezed her hand fondly. "I prefer the term 'International Man of Mystery'," he joked.

She laughed herself, although she was well aware that his humour was just an attempt to brush her off. "Seriously though," she said, smiling sweetly. "How do you expect me to keep seeing you if I know nothing about you?"

Wilder immediately withdrew his hand from hers and sat back on the couch with a sigh. "I like you Jenny," he said in a stern tone. "I did from the moment I saw you. Isn't that enough for now?"

"Not really, no," she replied, sitting up straighter and turning to face him fully. "You could be a drug smuggler for all I know. How can I trust you if I don't even know what you do for a living?"

"Do we really have to talk about work tonight?" Wilder snapped suddenly with such aggression in his voice that she actually backed away from him slightly. Then, as quickly as it had come, his anger seemed to dissipate to be replaced with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," he stated in a resigned voice as he reached forward and took her hand again. "But I'm sat here with a beautiful woman in a fancy bar, and I really don't want to be talking about anything other than you."

"The lady's champagne Sir," the waiter said, suddenly reappearing by their side and showing them the expensive bottle. "Shall I pour - "

"I'll do it," Wilder interrupted sharply, taking the bottle out of the waiter's hands.

"Sir," the waiter nodded in acknowledgement, before he turned and left them alone again.

Wilder reached forward and poured her out another glass whilst she cleared her throat, regaining her composure after his sudden outburst. "Well, what do you want to know about me?" she asked eventually when she was sure her voice was steady.

He placed the bottle down in the ice bucket on the table. "Everything," he stated simply, looking her directly in the eye.

"So you want to know everything about me, and I get to know nothing about you?" she pointed out. "Now that doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"You can ask me anything you want," he said gruffly as he slouched backwards. "Just let's leave work out of it for tonight yeah?"

She studied him for a moment, although she knew that even if she kept pushing, she'd get nothing out of him tonight. "Fine," she agreed reluctantly. "So where did you grow up then?" she asked, reverting to the standard first date questions now that her preliminary interrogation had failed.

"Manchester," he answered shortly, his eyes not meeting hers. "Moved down here when I was thirteen."

"You really don't like talking about yourself do you?" Jenny asked, picking up on his uncomfortable body language.

He smiled at her observation, his eyes crinkled fondly. "Old habits," he stated with a wink. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me something about yourself," he continued, sitting back and surveying her expectantly.

"Like what?" she asked with trepidation, probably more reluctant to talk about herself than he was.

"Like how is it you're still single?" he asked with a smile.

Jenny remained silent for a moment as her heart throbbed painfully, before she picked up her champagne, bringing the glass up to her lips. "I _was_ engaged actually," she said before taking a large gulp. "Up until a few months ago," she finished as she placed her glass back down. As soon as she had said it, she suddenly found herself wondering why she was bringing up Mark when she usually fought so hard not to think about him.

Wilder immediately sat up straighter and looked significantly more interested in the conversation. "What happened?" he asked.

"Oh God, everything happened," Jenny replied, covering up her regret at entering the conversation with a touch of humour. "He had his affairs . . . I had mine . . ." she continued, but she paused, not wanting to tell the next part of the story whilst at the same time knowing that she had to. "And then he was killed," she said, her voice wavering as she spoke. "Car crash," she lied, answering his curious look.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said curtly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "True love was it?"

"I was marrying him wasn't I?" she snapped before she could contain herself.

"Marriage isn't love," he replied wisely.

"Coming from a man who's probably experienced neither," she retorted with a falsely sweet smile. He raised his eyebrows at her, giving her a reproachful look. With a deep sigh, she rolled her eyes. "There's only been one man I've ever loved," she conceded, admitting something she'd barely allowed herself to accept. "And it wasn't him," she finished, before picking up her glass and taking another gulp of champagne.

"Who was it then?" he pushed, clearly more interested in the conversation than she was.

She paused for a moment, stroking the stem of her glass as she fought to keep the mental image of Cutter at bay. "Someone I can't be with," she replied eventually.

"So what are you doing now then?" he asked.

She turned to him and tilted her head to the side, hitching a small smile on her lips. "Well I'm having drinks with you," she replied smoothly.

He returned her smile with one of his own as he reached forward and tucked her hair behind her ear. Taken aback by the unexpected tenderness of the gesture, Jenny didn't realise that he'd leaned into her until his cool lips were on hers. She gasped, surprised, before she closed her eyes and kissed him back with a passion that she didn't even know existed in her anymore. Her hands travelled up his chest before she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His touch wondered down her side and rested on her thigh. When they broke apart, he stayed inches from her face.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked in a low, commanding voice; his breath tickling her cheek.

"Sure," she replied immediately, all common sense driven out of the window.

* * *

"So where are we going then?" Jenny asked as Wilder turned the car out of the car park.

"We can go anywhere you want," he replied, half-glancing round at her. "Another bar . . . a club . . . my place . . ." he added in an undertone.

Jenny let out a laugh of disbelief. "You don't waste much time do you?" she said in incredulity.

"Well I thought I'd give it a go," he said with a chuckle.

She grinned and fixed her gaze out of the window, noticing how beautiful London looked lit up. "Not tonight," she stated eventually as she looked back around at him, some semblence of her rational part returned to her.

He nodded with a small smile. "Fair enough. Where to then - ?" he began to say, but before he could finish, his mobile phone began buzzing loudly in his pocket. Frowning, he fished it out of his pants and flipped it open. "Wilder here," he said in a cool, officious tone. He was silent for a moment, his forehead crinkled as he listening intently. "Where?" he barked eventually, before he paused to listen again. "I'll be there in two minutes," he finished, before snapping the phone shut. "Hold on," he added to Jenny.

"Why - where are we going?" she demanded immediately, before a scream was wrenched from her lips as she was unexpectedly thrown into the car door. Wilder had made a sharp u-turn, cutting across another lane of cars that were all beeping at them angrily. "What the hell are you doing?" she shouted as he straightened up the car and took off at high speed in the opposite direction.

"I need to be somewhere," he replied, his voice urgent and distracted. "It shouldn't take long. You'll wait in the car until I'm done."

"Wait in the car - ?" she repeated angrily, before he cut her off.

"Just shut up a minute and let me think!" he barked, taking another sharp turn. "I need to concentrate!"

Jenny sat back in her chair, breathing hard as her confusion mounted. Buildings whizzed past them as blurs as Wilder floored the accelerator so that they were speeding through London's backstreets, the wind whipping deafeningly through the half opened window.

"Slow down!" Jenny yelled as he swerved to narrowly avoid a pedestrian. "You're going to kill someone!"

Wilder ignored her and eventually pulled the car up into a dark street, braking so abruptly that they both jerked forward.

"Joseph – what is going on?" Jenny demanded as Wilder fumbled to undo his seatbelt.

"Just stay here!" he ordered, his eyes wide and panicked as he flung the door open. "I'll be back in a minute."

And with that he left the car, slamming the door shut after him. Jenny squinted after him, trying to make out his figure as long as possible, but within a few seconds the darkness had swallowed him up whole. She sat back, letting out a noise of indignity at being told to wait on the car like some petulant child. Didn't he know who she was? What she'd faced the past year? _Actually - no he didn't_, Jenny reminded herself. _He thinks you're a beauty therapist remember . . . _

She sat there for a long while, torn between following him and risking him cutting her off because of it, or else sitting in the car like a good girl and missing out on a prime opportunity to gather information. She leaned forward with a sigh and squinted again into the darkness, trying to make out _anything _from the street ahead, but there were no street lamps to illuminate the place, nor any moon to cast a glow . . .

However, a sudden flicker of light from way up ahead caught her eye, and immediately, her stomach contorted as she realised what it was.

It was an anomaly.

Her mind going blank with panic, Jenny scrambled out of the car as quickly as she could, her heart palpitating as she slammed the door shut. Oh God, Cutter would be showing up here soon . . .

Her thoughts were halted as sudden muffled shouts and cries could be heard coming from by the glittering light up ahead. Her blood running cold, she began sprinting towards the source as fast as her heels would allow, dimly registering running past a black van as she went. The anomaly light was becoming more and more visible as she neared, as were the figures that were moving erratically in front of it. As she drew closer, one figure ran towards her suddenly, as though being chased by something.

"What the hell . . . ?" she mumbled to herself in disbelief.

As her eyes adjusted, Jenny realised with a sickening swoop that it was Wilder himself, being pursued by some sort of wolf-like creature that sprinted fast on hoofed feet after him. It had two huge protruding teeth that were serrated, and by the looks of it, already dripping blood. The creature was rapidly gaining on him, and Jenny tried to cry out a warning, but she seemed to have lost the power of speech altogether. She watched in horror as Wilder tripped, skidding on the rubbish-strewn floor. Jenny's eyes scanned the street frantically, looking for something – _anything _– that could help . . .

Mercifully, she spotted a rusty pipe lying in the midst of a heap of scrap metal, and she grabbed it, knowing that she had surely lost her mind - she should have been running like hell instead. Heart thumping wildly against her ribs, she stepped forward just as the beast pounced, its jagged teeth inches from Wilders face. With one clean swipe of the pipe that took all of her strength, she caught the creature clear across its jaw, and with a yelp, it flew off to the side, landing with a deep thud on the ground.

"Jenny," Wilder panted as he scrambled to his feet. "What are you - ?"

"Look out!" a strange man's voice shouted as half a dozen soldiers pointed their guns at the creature.

Wilder grabbed Jenny and pulled her away, sheltering her as tranquiliser darts soared through the air. Another muffled and drowsy yelp told her that the creature, whatever it was, had been sedated.

"I told you to stay in the car!" Wilder barked as they broke apart, looking completely livid as they both panted to regain their breath.

"Well it's a good job I didn't!" she shouted back, aware that she was trembling from head to toe. "Because if I had, you'd have been wolf food by now!"

He scowled heavily and looked around as his companions lifted the unconscious beast together and began carrying it uniformly towards the black van.

"Where are they taking it?" Jenny demanded, watching the men struggle with the weight of the creature as they staggered in unison down the street.

"None of your business," he retorted, grabbing her roughly around the wrist. "You're coming with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you - "

"Hey boss!" one of the soldiers yelled, his voice strained as he struggled to roll the creature into the van. "The busybodies are here!" he said as they slammed the van doors shut, nodding to the end of the street.

As Jenny turned around, she was sure she felt her already nauseated stomach disappear entirely. There, pulling up next to the anomaly, was what was unmistakably one of the ARC's SUV's.

"Jenny, come on!" Wilder barked forcefully, a definite note of panic in his voice. "We have to go!"

He pulled on her arm forcefully, and against her better judgment, she allowed him to drag her back to his car. But as he rounded it to get in himself, she couldn't help but look around as though some force was pulling her gaze back. Cutter had got out of his SUV, and was gaping at the scene around him, his eyes wide in shock. As the black van sped off into night, his gaze slowly turned to Jenny, and for a split second that seemed like an eternity, they both stared at each other from across the street.

The car door was suddenly flung opened next to her. "GET IN!" Wilder yelled, already starting up the engine.

After a final glance at a baffled-looking Cutter, Jenny quickly sat down in the car, and had barely shut the door before Wilder reversed back down the street at top speed.


	37. The confession of James Lester

**Short one today I'm afraid – me being my usual procrastinating self, I've left all my holiday organisation 'til the last minute :/ haha, I'll probably get another chapter up tomorrow though. Enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter 37

The numbness still hadn't died away as Cutter marched straight up to Lester's office, blood pounding deafeningly in his ears. Stephen was hurrying along in his wake, murmuring something about him being mistaken about it being Jenny getting into that car, but Cutter took no notice. He knew – he _knew _for a fact it had been her; he could recognise her frame and stature from a mile away. That aside, she had looked him directly in the eye, and even from that distance, he had seen fear stir in the depths of hers; fear that she had been discovered. But no – no, he wouldn't believe it. She wouldn't betray them like this. She wouldn't betray _him_. He knew her more than anyone else did, and she may have been proud and stubborn with little regard for her own safety – but she was no traitor. He would bet his life on it.

He was shaking by the time he barged into Lester's office, whether from rage or shock, he was unsure.

"Where's Jenny?" he blurted out as Stephen shut the door behind them.

Lester looked up from his paperwork with a mildly interested expression, which was quickly replaced by one of cool impassiveness. "She is at home with the flu Cutter," he replied in a disinterested voice. "Just like I told you yesterday."

"Well that's funny," Cutter breathed sarcastically, feeling steam issue out of his ears. "Because we've just seen her at the anomaly site. Getting into a car with one of Christine Johnson's soldiers!" he finished, his voice rising uncontrollably. "What the _hell _is going on?"

Lester sighed deeply and threw his file back down on the desk. "Did he see you?" he asked, completely disregarding the demand for information.

"Who?" Cutter exclaimed, feeling his frustration mount.

"Wilder," Lester replied shortly. "The soldier Jenny was with. Did he see you?"

"I don't know," Cutter answered through gritted teeth. "But Jenny did. Now for the last time, what is - ?"

"She's undercover," Lester interrupted, sitting further back in his chair. "Under my instruction."

Cutter gaped at him, unable to digest what he was hearing.

"Why would you put her undercover with one of Johnson's soldiers?" Stephen chimed in, sounding as shocked as Cutter was himself.

"For information," Lester bit back, clearly losing his patience. "Why else?"

"So," Cutter began quietly once he'd finally found his voice, "you placed an unstable and vulnerable woman undercover with a dangerous man? Am I hearing you right?"

"Jenny wanted to do it," Lester argued as he stood up, buttoning his blazer. "And she is neither unstable, nor vulnerable. She knows what she's doing - "

"She buried her fiancé not long ago!" Cutter yelled aggressively. "She's not thinking clearly!"

"You do her an injustice to think she's not capable," Lester replied in a calm voice as he rounded the desk. "She's obviously managed to plant herself in a position to gain information. Not many people would have been able to do that in just a few days. We should be proud of her."

"Have – have you lost your mind?" Cutter stammered; he had known that Lester was an uncaring snob, but to pull something like this . . .

"You've put her in a lot of danger Lester," Stephen said, shaking his head. "If they find out who she is, they could kill her to stop her passing on information. We don't know what sort of people they are - "

"Jenny can handle herself," Lester replied simply as he leant back against his desk. "If she didn't think she could do it, she wouldn't have agreed - "

"She's reckless!" Cutter exploded, unable to believe that Lester was trying to justify what he'd done. "You know she is at the moment! You're taking advantage - "

"What's this really about Cutter?" Lester interrupted sternly as he straightened up. "Is it that you fear for her safety?" he asked as he walked forward, leaning in to speak near Cutter's ear. "Or is it the fear of what she might be doing with Wilder that's bothering you?" he added in little above a whisper.

In a flash, Cutter had grabbed Lester by his collar, white-hot anger pulsating through his veins.

"Cutter," Stephen said in a warning tone.

"No, it's okay Stephen," Lester said in an uncaring tone, his face expressionless. "I do love these little games Cutter and I play - "

"Listen to me," Cutter snarled, tightening his grip on Lester's collar. "I'm going to go and pull her out of this mess you've landed her in before she gets in too deep. Before she winds up dead - "

"If you go to her, you're putting her in more danger than she is in now," Lester warned, his eyes flashing.

Cutter released him roughly, giving him a look of disgust. Then, he turned and barged passed Stephens shoulder, anger still bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he stormed out of the office.


	38. Meeting Christine Johnson

Chapter 38

Wilder had a firm grip on Jenny's arm as he marched her down the corridor of the unfamiliar yet magnificent building that he had brought her to. She had sat in the car on the drive there, stark frozen, her mind in shock over what had just happened. An anomaly . . . a creature, now sedated and being transported God-knows where . . . Cutter . . .

Jenny's heart fluttered as she thought of how Nick had watched, completely bewildered, as she got into the car of the enemy. She knew what he'd be sure to think, but she composed herself mentally and pushed all thoughts of Cutter out of her head – his opinion of her was no longer her most pressing matter. As Wilder led her through the labyrinth of corridors, she forced her mind onto more pressing matters. It was clear by what she had witnessed that Wilder and his team were collecting the creatures that come through the anomalies under Christine Johnson's orders. What was not clear however was how on earth they were detecting the anomalies before the ARC was – or indeed how they were finding out their location at all. The anomaly detector was top secret, even from other government officials in Whitehall that were the mechanics behind the ARC's funding and operations. The only people who knew exactly how it had been made were Connor, Cutter, a few tech guys, and Oliver Leek. One of them, it seemed, had passed the information on, and it didn't take a genius to work out whom. But Jenny's main concern was not how Johnson's team had gained their information . . . it was for what purpose. What on earth were they collecting creatures for? Experiments? An army? The thought of either made her shudder to her very core.

She needed to contact Lester straight away.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked Wilder in a trembling voice as he swiped his ID card to open another door.

"To my boss," he replied in an icy tone, his nails digging into her arm as he pulled her onwards. "She can decide what to do with you."

Jenny let out a laugh, despite there being nothing remotely funny about the situation. "When I was in University, I went on a first date with a guy who spent the whole evening texting his ex girlfriend. No offence, but I even enjoyed that date more than this one."

Wilder chuckled coldly. "I must say, you're handling all of this very well. I would have expected more questions."

Jenny's already racing heart pounded harder as she realised how suspicious her calmness must be. "And what do you expect from me?" she hissed in an attempt to cover for her foolishness. "I know you have no intention of telling me anything about the wolf-creature or the strange light. Why waste my breath?"

"Then you're smarter than I've given you credit for," he stated as they went through yet another door.

As they turned down another corridor, a strict female voice could be heard from up ahead, and when Jenny looked up, she saw that it belonged to a good-looking dark haired woman wearing a crisp black suit. She was walking towards them, and looked in deep conversation with another soldier.

This had to be Christine Johnson.

"You're not to speak unless spoken to," Wilder murmured to Jenny before they stopped in front of her.

She looked at them both with cool blue eyes before dismissing the other soldier with a wave of her hand.

"Captain," she smiled pleasantly to Wilder. "I trust everything went to plan?"

"Indeed Ma'am," Wilder nodded curtly. "We captured another creature, and it is being transported to the facility as we speak."

"Excellent," she nodded in approval, before she turned her cold eyes on Jenny. "And this is?" she asked, her voice suddenly stern.

Wilder cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "This is my date, Ma'am."

"And that's wonderful – I'm very pleased for you," she snapped sarcastically, looking Jenny up and down. "But what is she doing here?"

"I was with her when I received the call for back up Ma'am," Wilder answered obediently. "She witnessed the whole thing."

"Did she now?" Christine said in a dangerous whisper as she stepped closer to Jenny, who froze, her heart bursting its banks with beating. "And your name is?"

"Jenny," she replied in the same icy voice she was being addressed in. "Jenny Brown."

"And what do you do?" Christine asked, tilting her head to the side in feigned curiosity.

"I'm a beauty therapist," Jenny lied, not allowing a flicker of emotion to show on her face.

"Hmm," she said, looking her up and down again. "Well Jenny – I bet this has all been a bit of a shock for you hasn't it?" Jenny replied with a cold look, although she remained silent. "I'm sure you understand that you can't repeat what you saw to anyone else?" Christine continued in an extremely condescending voice.

"If you even breath a word - " Wilder interjected aggressively, tightening his grip on Jenny's arm.

"Now now Captain," Christine interrupted in the same falsely-sweet voice. "Jenny seems like a clever woman. I'm sure she knows that if she even had a mind to say anything to anyone, she won't live long enough to tell the tale. Isn't that right, Jenny?"

Determined not to let the fear of the implication of that comment show, Jenny raised her head high and forced herself to look directly into those pitiless blue eyes. "Yes," she replied in a voice more confident than she felt.

"Excellent," Christine smiled, crossing her arms and studying her. "But the problem is that now I have to trust you. And trust is not a skill I am well versed in - "

"With your permission Ma'am," Wilder interrupted in a hesitant tone. "She did save my life. If it weren't for her, the creature would be picking me out of its teeth by now - "

"And isn't it a sad day when my Captain needs to be rescued by a beautician?" Christine snapped, her eyes showing her anger.

Jenny felt a rush of indignity at her words, before she reminded herself that she wasn't really a beauty therapist, and so shouldn't really feel insulted by that comment.

Christine sighed suddenly and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and finger, looking both irritated and harassed. However, when she straightened up, she seemed to have calmed herself slightly. Stepping closer to Wilder, she spoke with in a low, commanding voice, "She doesn't make a movement without you knowing about it. Is that understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," Wilder nodded immediately.

"Until I decide I can trust her, she stays with you and is allowed to contact no one," she continued. "She goes nowhere alone until I say so. Understood?"

"Hang on," Jenny interjected, feeling her blood run cold. "I've got a life. I've got people who'll be worried about where I am. I can't just - "

"You can, and you will," Christine said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Unless you'd prefer us to do to you what we've done to other witnesses?"

"You can't - !" Jenny began to shout, but Wilder tightened his grip on her arm to force her into silence.

"I'll make sure she stays with me Ma'am," he interrupted sternly.

"Well ensure that you do," Christine said giving Jenny a cool look. "This is you're mess Captain – you clean it up."

"Ma'am," he nodded as the woman turned and walked back down the corridor where she came from.


	39. A guest or a prisoner

**I'm off on my jollies with my nearest and dearest on Wednesday, so this will be my last update for a week (and probably a few days after that whilst I recover!), and so this chapter is a tad longer than my previous to make up for it. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter 39

"I'm not staying here!" Jenny insisted as Wilder led her into his apartment.

"Didn't you hear a word Miss Johnson said?" Wilder asked gruffly as he tossed his keys on a side table and turned on the light.

"Yes, I heard everything that bitch said!" she exclaimed as she followed him into the living room. His place was quite modest, with simple yet modern decor. It had wooden floors throughout, with beige and cream walls and sparse furniture. "It doesn't mean _you_ have to listen to her," she added, her eyes travelling around the room and taking in every inch of it.

"I'm doing this for your own safety," he said as he pulled his jacket off and threw it onto the couch. "If I hadn't have vouched for you back there, you'd be sitting in a locked cell right now, or worse."

"You're holding me as a prisoner in your house, and you expect me to be grateful?" she gaped.

"You're not my prisoner," he said shortly as he poured out two whiskeys from a small bar in the corner. "You're my guest," he added, handing her a glass.

"A guest can leave whenever they want," she pointed out as she accepted the drink, although she made a point of not drinking any more alcohol – she didn't want to make herself any more vulnerable than she already was.

"Well I suppose the two terms aren't mutually exclusive then," he stated, raising his glass. "Cheers," he added, before he downed his drink in one go.

She couldn't help but notice how cold his tone was compared to how it had been before she had ran to his aid at the anomaly sight, and despite how trapped she felt, she knew it was imperative to keep him onside. "Have I done something to offend you?" she asked with a false frown as she set her glass down on the coffee table. "Except saving your ass that is?" she added as she straightened up and folded her arms tightly.

He looked at her for a moment, making her feel like she was being x-rayed. "You know too much," he stated eventually, turning back to the bar to top up his glass. "It's as simple as that."

"You can trust me," she sighed in false aspiration as she walked up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

She felt him stiffen under her touch. "Trust is earned," he mumbled as he fixed the stopper back on the expensive whiskey bottle before turning back around.

"And how am I going to earn your trust Captain?" she whispered, so close to him now that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She didn't want to push things too far, but she knew that if she wanted to keep him sweet, a bit of gentle seduction was in order.

He looked down at her and inhaled deeply, as though trying to work her out.

"Look," she pushed, running her hands up his chest. "I know what I know now. Nothing's going to change that. So you can either kill me, or put me to better use. I personally would strongly encourage the latter," she finished with a sweet smile, tilting her head up to look him directly in the eyes.

"And what use can you be to me?" he asked, his voice not as brittle as it had been moments before.

"Oh I have all sorts of talents," she said softly, tugging on the collar of his shirt. "I'm much more than a pretty face."

"Now that I can believe," he tittered as he put his arms around her, his icy persona melting considerably. "As a matter of fact, I can think of one way you can earn my trust right now . . ." he trailed off as he brushed his lips up against hers.

She kissed him back for a few moments, although alarm bells started ringing in her head as she did so. She was alone, and trapped in the house with a soldier whom she knew was capable of a lot of things . . . she'd be lying if she said her panic wasn't starting to rise.

She broke away from him with what she hoped was a genuine-looking smile on her face. "How Arcadian of you," she said in a mock-offended voice. "Equating me going to bed with you to earning your trust."

"Sounds like a good way to me," he said smoothly, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

"Not whilst I'm being held here against my will," she said sternly, pulling away from him.

He looked at her for a moment, his expression impassive, although Jenny could read in his eyes that he was considering disregarding her protests altogether. It did nothing to ease her panic. "All right," he said eventually in a reluctant, sombre tone.

"Thank you," she stated coldly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go to sleep and try and forget this day ever happened."

"You can take my bedroom," he said in a forced-calm voice. "Down the hall, last door on your right. I'll sleep in the spare room. You can find a shirt in my wardrobe to sleep in."

"Thank you," Jenny said again in a curt voice. "I'll just get a glass of water then go to bed then, if that's okay with you?"

"Kitchen's next door," he said in a disinterested voice, gesturing in a general direction before he turned and headed back to the bar again.

Jenny nodded, before she made her way to the kitchen. She was by no means thirsty, nor did she fancy having a snoop around whilst he was in such close proximity. No – she had come in here for something else - protection. As quietly as possible, she opened what she had rightly assumed to be the cutlery draw, and as slowly as she could, she withdrew a large kitchen knife and slipped it up the sleeve of her coat. Marvelling at the sort of person she had become in just a few short months, she closed the draw softly, and got herself a glass of water for appearance sake.

"Goodnight," she said as she walked back through the living room, making for the hall.

"Goodnight," he answered gruffly. "Oh, and Jenny?" he added. She looked around expectantly. "I've got the whole place alarmed. In case you've got any crazy ideas about running away in the middle of the night."

Jenny suppressed any fear she was about to show on her face before nodding in acknowledgement and continuing to the bedroom.

* * *

The first thing Jenny did when she reached the bedroom was hide her knife under the pillow, knowing that she'd be able to grab it quickly if she needed to. The second thing that sprang to mind was her mobile phone. She knew that if she was in Wilder's position, she'd confiscate the phone of the person in question, or else look through it to see if they were actually who they said they were. Knowing that she couldn't under any circumstances let that happen, she pulled out her phone from her bag, and opened the back of it smoothly. She fumbled with removing the battery, and eventually pulled out her sim card. With one quick fold, she snapped the thing in two, before replacing it back in the phone. She assembled it again so that it looked normal, although hopefully it would no longer work and so wouldn't incriminate her if Wilder got a change to look through it. As she replaced the phone in her bag, she pulled out her purse and slipped her driving license and debit card out of its pockets. She didn't think the name 'Jennifer Lewis' stamped across the two cards instead of her cover surname 'Brown' would do anything to improve her position if Wilder was to see them. She had already thought ahead with regards to her ARC identification card, which she'd had the sense to remove from her purse before the date. Thank heavens for small mercies, she supposed as she slipped the two cards into her bra, unable to think of a better hiding place.

With a deep sigh, Jenny stood up and paced the room for a moment, allowing herself to realise the gravity of the situation she had landed herself in now that she was alone with her own thoughts. She was now a captive, and unless she could pull a spectacular manoeuvre out of the bag, she was likely to be found out and imprisoned indefinitely, or else executed on the spot. But that wasn't really the thing that kept her pulse racing as she sat back down on the edge of the neatly made bed, nibbling at her thumb nail nervously. No – that was the memory of the look on Nick's face when he had spotted her getting into the car with Wilder at the anomaly sight. It had actually pained her to see the hurt in his eyes, mixed with a flicker of disappointment and betrayal. Hopefully, he'd have gone straight to Lester and demanded an explanation, and would have learnt by now that she was undercover. But what if he hadn't? What if he thought she was a traitor? That she'd been working against them all along?

With another sigh, Jenny shook her head, pushing all of that out of her mind. She had more pressing things to worry about; the most important of which getting out of this predicament alive and with some useful information. Deciding to put a mental block on all things Cutter, Jenny walked over to the wardrobe that ran along the side wall, and after picking through a dozen or so shirts, she pulled out a long white one to wear for bed. She undressed quickly and pulled it on, not liking the vulnerability of having no clothes on any longer than necessary.

She took a moment to look around the room for a moment, wondering if she had the gall to search the place for any clues to what Johnson's team might be up to. She knew she'd have to be mad to try anything whilst Wilder was so close, and most likely full of suspicions about her anyway. But, she reasoned with a sinking feeling, it was her job to find something, or else all of this would be for nothing. Resigned to the fact that she would have to at least have a quick peek in his draws, she listening with her ear pressed against the door for a few moments until she was convinced he wasn't about to burst in on her. Anticipation building, she padded softly over to his oak dresser that sat tall next to the bed, and as slowly and quietly as possible, she opened the top draw. When she peered into it, the first thing she noticed was his passport, and one quick check of it confirmed that he was indeed Joseph Francis Wilder. Smiling in amusement at his middle name, she replaced the passport where she found it, and as she did so, her fingers brushed up against something cold. Squinting in the dim light, she fished around and eventually pulled out what was unmistakably a wedding ring. As she studied the golden band, her stomach had clenched uncomfortably - she sincerely hoped that this was not from a current marriage. However as soon as that thought occurred to her, she shook herself mentally – so what if he was married? It's not like this relationship was real or anything . . .

Jenny stared at the ring for a few moments, confused as to why she had just felt that unexpected wave of jealousy, but before she could ponder its meaning further, loud footsteps could be heard clomping downstairs. Panicking, Jenny threw the gold band back into the draw and eased it shut, before fumbling to turn the bedside light off. She pulled the sheets back haphazardly, and had only just got into the bed when the heavy footsteps began thudding up the stairs. Fighting to control the overwhelming panic that rose up in her chest, Jenny put her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes just as her bedroom door creaked open slowly and quietly. Heart thumping, Jenny slowly slipped her hand under her pillow and clasped the hilt of the knife hidden there. Feigning sleep, she listened intently, and sensed him hovering by the doorway for a few moments as though he was checking that she was asleep. Then, to her complete and utter horror, she felt him move deeper into the room. Numbing terror flooded through her, and she suddenly became hyper-aware of every sound around her, from the creak of the wooden floorboards to his heavy rhythmic breathing. Her grip on the knife tightened as she heard him draw nearer, ready to strike if he so much as touched her. But instead, she heard him bending down next to the bed, and fish around for something for a few moments. Eventually, she sensed him straighten up slowly. Fighting with the natural instinct to turn around, she ensured that her eyes stayed firmly shut as she felt him bend over her, although she pulled the knife down ever so slightly, ready to attack . . .

Then something happened that she didn't expect. She felt him brush his cool lips on her temple, planting a gentle kiss there before he pulled away. Slackening her grip on the knife, Jenny listened as he retreated from the room, closing the door softly behind him. She waited a long time before she dared to so much as breathe again, but when she felt confident that he wasn't going to return, she sat up. It was a few more moments before she realised what had just happened, and she hurriedly brushed the hair from her face and reached for her bag.

Rooting inside it for a few seconds, she knew what he had come into the room for before she had empirically proven its disappearance.

Her mobile phone was gone.

Thanking anyone up there that she had thought to break it, she dropped her bag back down on the floor, her heart still beating ten to the dozen. Running the back of her hand across her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if - even if she managed to find out some information - she'd live long enough to put it to use.


	40. How long

**I'm back, and I'm still alive (but only just!). Faliraki is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G! I really didn't want to come home. Since I'm suffering from severe holiday blues and missing my girls, I'm updating at this obscene hour. Sorry it's short, but I've only just recovered from the sunburn/alcohol intake/traumatisingly pervy men, so I have to start slow to get back into it! Hope you enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter 40

It was strange how calm Jenny felt as she made her way to the kitchen the next morning, still clad in Wilder's shirt. She was in exactly the same predicament that she had been in the previous night . . . and yet . . . something was different. Perhaps it was the fact that it was daylight, Jenny reasoned to herself as she pushed open the kitchen door. Everything seemed less threatening when the sunlight poured in through the windows when compared to the sinister and uncertain darkness, even borderline psychopaths like Wilder. He was sitting at the breakfast bar, fully dressed, his face buried in the Saturday newspaper and his hand cupped around a steaming mug of coffee.

As the door shut behind Jenny, he looked up. "Morning," he stated, the intensity of his gaze on her legs making her burn.

"Morning," she mumbled back moodily as she padded over and slid into the seat opposite him.

"Sleep well?" he asked in a light conversational manner as he put down his paper to pour her a coffee.

"As well as a captive can, yes," she sniffed, accepting the mug off him.

"Good," he replied shortly as he picked up his paper again. "And if you expect me to keep to my side of the bargain, you really shouldn't be walking around in that," he added, gesturing to the shirt she was wearing. "I'm a patient man, but dressed like that, you'd test the willpower of a monk."

"Well it's not like I've got anything else to wear, have I?" she snapped boldly. "I didn't exactly pack a bag in anticipation of hostage taking."

He looked at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to lose his already heated temper, but to her surprise, he eventually chuckled. "I'll take you back to your place later. You can collect some of your things," he said casually as he focused his attention back to the newspaper.

"And how long am I supposed to be staying here?" Jenny pushed now that she was confident he wasn't going to snap. "A few days? A week?"

"Until I trust you," he replied simply, his dark eyes still scanning the paper.

"And when will that be?" she demanded, clutching her untouched coffee. "When we're married? On our second kid?" she added sarcastically.

Wilder laughed again, his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Steady on, we've only been on one date - "

"How long Joseph?" she interrupted, using her sternest voice.

He sighed, and folded up his newspaper, obviously having given up being able to read it in peace. "Look," he began, his voice laced with false sympathy. "I understand that this is hard for you. You've just been caught up in some government business, and it's my fault. I never should have driven you to that anomaly site - "

"Anomaly?" she repeated in a falsely confused voice. "What's an anomaly?" she asked, knowing that even her high school drama teachers would be proud of the performance she was putting on.

"Look," he said again, although this time his voice was much stricter. "I promise that once I feel I can trust you not to go blabbing, I'll explain everything I can to you. Everything about the anomalies, and the creatures. But for now, you and I just need to keep our heads down, and prove to Christine that she's got nothing to worry about with regards to you. Okay?"

Jenny bit her lip, wanting to push things further, but knowing that she'd be treading on dangerous waters if she did. However, before she could make up her mind, he reached forward and rested his hand on hers. "Do you know what the first thing I thought about you when I saw you was?" he asked in a low voice.

Jenny shook her head, completely nonplus.

"I thought 'that is possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. And that she looks lonely'," he continued. "But you don't have to feel lonely anymore. You and I," he squeezed her hand, and gave her a rare smile, "we're in this together."

For reasons that Jenny couldn't even begin to fathom, these last words had an overwhelming effect on her. Yes, she was lonely. She had been since Mark had died, and she had broken things off with Cutter. She had felt isolated, not just from the man she loved or the ARC, but from life in general. Like the days were just passing her in a blur, and she was just a spectator watching from the sidelines, unable to participate. For a few strange moments, she felt like Wilder had just reached into that dark and lonely abyss and plucked her out of it. Without thinking, she leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly across his, taking in the sharp scent of his aftershave as she kissed him. When she sat back in her chair, she saw that he was smiling at her.

"What?" she asked in a flirtatious manner as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Nothing," he stated, clearing his throat. "I'm taking you out tonight," he added out of the blue as he sat back himself.

"Out?" Jenny repeated, perplexed. "Out where?"

"Drinks, lunch?" he suggested as he stood up. "Whatever you want," he said as he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "To make up for what I'm putting you through. It's the least I can do." He held out his hands for her to take, and when she did so, he pulled her to her feet. "Now go on – go and put some clothes on," he ordered, smacking her backside to urge her towards the door. "And we'll go and get that stuff from your place that you keep banging on about."

With a mocking glare, Jenny did as she was told and made for the door, although she paused as she reached it, a thought occurring to her. "You haven't seen my mobile have you?" she asked, turning on the spot. "I must have misplaced it last night."

"No," he replied as he sat back down, pulling the paper back towards him. "Sorry," he added in the most unapologetic voice imaginable.

"Oh well," Jenny sighed convincingly. "It was knackered anyway. I just carried it around out of habit. I was going to take it to get fixed when I had a spare minute."

"Well if I see it, I'll let you know," he replied shortly, his nose buried in the paper again.

"Thanks," Jenny replied disingenuously with her best fake smile.

She turned and made her way back to the bedroom, shaking her head. Was it all men that were liars, or just the ones she seemed to be attracted to?


	41. Crazed stalker

Chapter 41

Cutter sat stiffly, parked in his car across the road from some swanky bar in the West end, his eyes trained on the door he had seen Jenny and that soldier Wilder enter only a few moments before. Soft tinny music issued quietly from the radio, broken every now and then by harsh static, although Cutter paid no attention to it. All he could hear was the steady pounding of blood in his ears as he squinted through the darkened window of the bar, trying to make out a figure that might be Jenny. He had been waiting outside Jenny's house when she and the soldier had shown up, and to his complete horror, they went inside for at least an hour. Trying not to let his mind wander to what they might be doing in there, he had waited until they had come back out. Jenny, he had noticed, had changed into a baby blue floaty dress with a thick black belt buckled under her chest, looking as though she was dressed up for an occasion. She also carried a large bag with her. He watched, seething, as Wilder immediately took the bag off her and placed it in the boot of his car. Then they had both got in, all smiles and laughter, and driven off without spotting him. Cutter had followed like some crazed stalker, and found himself here; waiting for the right opportunity to extract Jenny from this mess she had gotten herself into. He kept thinking that maybe she'd come outside for a cigarette or something, and maybe he'd be able to pull her out of there without having the inevitable confrontation with Wilder. But the more time wore on, the more he was becoming convinced that she either wasn't feeling the need for a smoke, or else she wasn't allowed out for one.

He'd have to go in.

* * *

Jenny sat at the bar with Wilder at her side, waiting to be served their second drink by the harassed-looking barmaids that were struggling to keep up with the weekend afternoon bustle.

"So what do you think of this place then?" Wilder asked her in an uncharacteristically nice manner. He had clearly taken their outing as an opportunity to slip back into date mode.

"It's lovely," Jenny nodded, casting an eye over the retro decor. "Did you ever bring your wife here?" she added before she had the common sense to stop herself, too caught up in the atmosphere to be on her guard.

Wilder snapped his head around, looking taken aback. "How did you know I've been married?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed.

Cursing herself, Jenny turned to him and hitched a nervous smile on her face. "I didn't. Your reaction just told me," she lied smoothly, although her heart beat quickened.

He huffed, his hand still clutching his now-empty pint glass. "I don't appreciate being tricked Jenny."

"Sorry," she said, not meaning it in the slightest. "But now we're on the subject, are you going to tell me about her?"

"There's nothing to tell," he stated gruffly. "She was a tart, end of story."

Her heart softening slightly, Jenny reached forward and brushed her hand against his arm. "I'm sorry," she repeated, this time genuinely. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

His stony expression seemed to slide off his face at her words. "It's okay. You were just showing an interest in me. Like you should," he added fairly. Jenny smiled and made to withdraw her touch, but before she could, he suddenly grabbed her around the wrist hard, startling her. "But in the future, leave the questions to me okay?" he said in a calm voice, although his grip tightened painfully.

Eyes nearly watering with the pain, she nodded mutely, and as quickly as he had started, he released her. She pulled her arm away from him, confused as to what had just happened, but before another word could be said;

"What can I get you?" the barmaid said tensely to Wilder.

"A glass of red wine and a pint of bitter," Wilder ordered with a smile, as though nothing had just occurred.

"And a whiskey on the rocks when you're ready love," a heart-stopping familiar voice said from the other side of Jenny.

Unable to believe her ears, she snapped her head around. Her jaw nearly fell to the floor. Cutter was leaning casually on the bar next to her, his gaze set off into the distance, although she knew by the way he had brushed into her that he was well aware what he was doing.

"I'm just nipping to the little boy's room," Wilder said from next to her, although it sounded like he was a great distance away.

With extreme difficulty, Jenny wrenched her gaze away from Cutter and looked back at Wilder. "Okay," she nodded stupidly, her voice unsteady.

He rested his hand on Jenny's back before fishing out a ten pound note to place on the bar for the drinks. As he made his way through the crowd of people, Jenny turned back to face the bar, her pulse still racing.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" she snarled at Cutter in an undertone, ensuring that she didn't look around at him in case she was seen.

"I'm getting you out of here," he snapped in a low voice, and one quick glance around at him confirmed that he at least had the sense to look in the opposite direction as well. The barmaid placed the wine and bitter down in front of Jenny, and swiftly took the crisp note waiting for her on the bar. Jenny waited until she was out of earshot before she replied.

"I don't need you to get me out of here," she hissed, her eyes set on the men's toilet door. "I'm fine - "

"I mean it Jenny," Cutter interrupted, his voice brittle. "You and I are walking out of here now."

"Oh, what? You think I'm not up to this?" she demanded in an urgent whisper, catching his eye in the mirror behind the bar. "It's a bit too late to want to play my hero Nick - "

"This isn't a negotiation," he replied, his low voice wavering with anger. "We walk now, or I blow your cover in front of your soldier boy."

Jenny couldn't miss the bitterness in his voice when he said that, and she immediately wondered if Cutter had got the wrong idea about what was going on between her and Wilder. Still, the fury at his threats overrode any desire she had to correct him. "If you dare mess this up for me Cutter, I'll never forgive you," she hissed, barely moving her lips but glaring at his reflection all the same.

"You're not thinking clearly," he interjected, sounding aspirated. "You're too emotional to do this right now. You're going to end up getting yourself killed - "

Jenny let out a harsh chuckle, overwhelmed with indignity. "You know what? I'm going to prove you wrong Nick," she stated with as much venom as she could muster.

"Jenny - " Cutter began, but she had stopped listening as she spotted Wilder exiting the men's room.

"Just stay out of this," she snapped as she gathered up their drinks. She threw Cutter on final look of loathing before she carefully made her way through the throngs of people to meet Wilder half way back.

With a smile, he put his hand on her lower back and led her over to a newly-vacated table in the corner, but all the time Jenny could feel Cutter's eyes burning into her.

* * *

Cutter sipped his whiskey slowly and deliberately at the bar, his eyes never leaving Jenny and Wilder who both seemed very cosy in the corner. Cutter's insides burned with jealousy as he watched Wilder tuck Jenny's wavy hair behind her ear and trace a line down her back as they talked. He had to resist the urge to throw his glass at the wall as they kissed; he sincerely hoped it was just good acting on her part, but Cutter couldn't help but notice that Jenny herself seemed smitten. Her dark eyes were bright as they never left Wilders face, and her smile lit up the room as he spoke, brighter than it had been since their own dates all those months ago.

A while later, to Cutter's intense relief, the rugby came on the TV, and Wilder's attention seemed drawn away from Jenny and onto the widescreen. Cutter watched as Jenny leaned forward and whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded, distracted as most men are by any sport. She fished for something in her bag for a second, before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. Standing up and pushing her way through the crowd that all seemed to have morphed into die-hard rugby fans, she made her way over to the front door. Catching Cutters eye, she gave a quick jerk of her head to indicate that he should follow her before she pushed open the door and stepped out into the sunshine. Cutter finished the rest of his whiskey, and gritted his teeth against the bitter taste as he followed her out, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. He looked around as the door fell shut behind him, confused as to where she'd gone, but then he saw her gesturing for him to join her in the alleyway that ran down the side of the bar.

"I'm not leaving here without you Jenny," he said as he joined her in the narrow alley. "So you can either come with me now or - "

"_Listen_," she interrupted in a hurried whisper, completely disregarding the lit cigarette in between her fingers. "Johnson and her team are collecting creatures that come through the anomalies."

"I – what?" Cutter said, distracted from his pleas for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"It's enough that I know," she replied impatiently. "The point is that if I prove myself trustworthy to Christine and Wilder, I'll be able to find out why, and find out how they're getting to the anomalies before us."

"But - " Cutter tried to argue, but she cut him off again.

"Someone's working against us Nick," she said, her brow furrowed. "I don't know who, but I've got a pretty good idea. I just need proof - "

"I'm worried about you Jenny," he interrupted, unable to stop himself voicing his concern. "You're not thinking about the consequences - "

"Screw the consequences!" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing dangerously. "This is exactly what I need to get my mind off of Mark, and off what we did . . ." she trailed off with another frown. "And besides, I am this close - " she added, holding her thumb and finger an inch apart, " – to figuring out what's going on. Please don't ruin it now."

Cutter paused with a sigh, and ran his hand back through his unruly hair as he considered her for a moment. "Are you sleeping with him?" he asked eventually, needing to ask the question that he was burning to know the answer to, and yet at the same time didn't think he could handle knowing.

Jenny's mouth fell open, and for a second she looked like she was going to slap him. "How – how dare you!" she gasped eventually, sounding completely mortified. "It's none of your business if I am - "

"So I'll take that as a yes then," Cutter interrupted bitterly, unable to bring himself to keep looking her in the eye.

"No, I'm not actually," she replied, sounding annoyed that she had to justify herself. "I know the reputation I've gotten myself because of you, but whatever Stephen's been filling your head with, I don't sleep with men for payment - "

"Well you seem all over him to me!" Cutter argued back. "No one is that good an actress!"

"Well I had a lot of practice when I was seeing you, didn't I?" she hissed, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Oh that's nice Jen – real nice," Cutter stammered, his pride wounded. "It didn't seem to stop you coming back for more, did it?"

"Oh whatever Cutter," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

A long silence followed as they both glared at each other, breathing hard. Her unused cigarette had almost burnt to the butt, and when she realised this, she threw it on the floor impatiently, standing on it with her heel.

"Look," he said eventually, forcing his voice calm as he reached forward and rested his hand on her bare arm, aware that this was the most physical contact they had shared in a months. "Please just come back with me. Please - "

"What's going on?" a cold male voice said suddenly.

Cutter and Jenny both snapped their heads around in unison to see Wilder stood there, his chiselled jaw set, and his narrowed eyes studying them both.


	42. Covering up

**Teeny tiny chapter here, only because it wouldn't have looked right put at the beginning of another chapter. I'm going to have to start doing much longer chapters after this though otherwise this will end up being a 70 chapter story lol. Enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter 42

After that, Cutter wasn't quite sure what happened. All that he knew was that he suddenly felt a sharp stinging sensation on his cheek, and his head flew to the side with the force of the blow. Momentarily blinded, he was only able to straighten up when the dots stopped dancing in front of his eyes.

"I am not a tart!" Jenny was shouting at him, and judging by her hand which was still half raised, it had been her who had slapped him.

"I - " Cutter began, completely baffled as to why she had started screaming at him out of the blue.

"What the hell makes you think that I'd want to go back to your place?" she was saying, her voice completely incredulous. Then she turned to Wilder, and said in a gentle, yet aspirated voice, "I told him I had a boyfriend, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer."

Then she looked at Cutter expectantly, clearly wanting him to join in on her little cover-up operation. "Um," he said stupidly to Wilder, for the first time realising how built the man was. "Sorry. I – I didn't know she was with you."

"Creep," Jenny said with distaste, giving him a very convincing dirty look before she walked back to Wilder.

He looked down at her and snaked an arm around her waist. "You alright?" he asked gruffly, holding on to her tightly.

"Oh yeah," Jenny said, waving her hand airily. "It's nothing."

"Do you want me to sort him out for you? Teach him a lesson?" he queried. Cutter found the casualness of his voice extremely chilling.

Jenny shook her head immediately with a strained smile. "I think I did that for myself," she replied, before giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "It's fine, don't worry about it." She made to pull him away, but Wilder seemed to resist for a moment, his cold eyes set on Cutter again. "Joseph, come on," Jenny said in a sterner voice, pulling on his shoulder. "He's not worth it. Don't let him spoil the night."

Wilder looked round at her, before nodded reluctantly. He glanced back at Cutter, and pointed a stern finger at him. "If I find you even _looking_ at my girl again, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

There was no hint of humour in his voice, nor did his face indicate that he wasn't serious in the slightest. Cutter was by no means scared of him of course; only of what the man could do to Jenny if he found out who she really was. So, hating himself for seeming so weak, he nodded and dropped his gaze away from them.

"Good," Wilder said curtly, his hand still firmly around Jenny's waist. "Let's go," he said to her, steering her away.

Jenny turned and gave Cutter an apologetic look over Wilders shoulder, before allowing herself to be shepherded away. Cutter watched them go, panic and jealousy both fighting out for top billing, and when they had disappeared, he turned and slapped the palms of his hands against the chipping brick wall in frustration. He _hated _himself for being so bloody helpless. And he hated Jenny even more for being so stubborn. _Why_ couldn't she just listen to him for once in her life? She was not herself at the moment, and despite the fact that she felt in control of the situation now, it wouldn't take much for it to turn. Wilder clearly had some sort of hold over her already; Cutter could tell that from the way she looked at him.

This was going to end badly – he could feel it.

But there seemed to be nothing he could do about it.


	43. Passing the test

Chapter 43

"I don't know why she wants to see you, okay?" Wilder said shortly as he sped up the car to pass the amber traffic light that was turning red. "Maybe she's decided she can trust you."

"Or maybe she wants to have me executed?" Jenny suggested bitterly.

"I wouldn't let that happen," Wilder replied, half-glancing round at her.

It was Monday morning, and Wilder had informed her upon waking that Christine Johnson wanted to see her. Jenny didn't take this as welcomed news. For one, she had been counting on the alone time she would have had when Wilder went to work without her – she could have phoned Lester and brought him up-to-date on everything she had seen, and everything she had begun to suspect because of it. For two, she knew that anything Christine Johnson wanted with her couldn't be good. Jenny lived in constant fear that they would background check the name 'Jenny Brown, 29, London', and find out she was not who she claimed to be, or else that they may come across her picture in the ARC files they had clearly managed to hack into. No, she was well aware that she was living on borrowed time, and a meeting with Johnson did nothing to improve her growing nerves.

For the beginning of the car journey, Jenny just assumed that Wilder was taking her to the 'base' where she had met Christine before. However after a while, she couldn't help but notice that he was taking a dramatically different route. She said nothing about it though – she knew that any more of her questions would be ignored or snapped at, and she knew better than to waste her breath trying. She was beginning to be able to judge how far she could push it with Wilder; he had an incredibly short temper, but Jenny was fast getting to grips on how to handle him.

Eventually, they reached an industrial district on the outskirts of London, and pulled up outside a disused and grubby-looking warehouse. Christine Johnson was waiting for them, leaning casually against her car and sipping from a flask of what looked like coffee. Two heavily armed soldiers stood to attention at either side of the gigantic metal door. As they approached, Christine straightened up and smiled, although the smile did not reach those cold eyes.

"Jenny," she nodded in a greeting. "Nice to see you again."

"And you," Jenny replied coolly – she liked this woman less and less every time she saw her.

"So," Christine began in a light conversational manner, gesturing to the warehouse behind her. "You seemed to have passed the trust test. Congratulations. What do you think it is we do here Jenny?"

"Well . . ." Jenny sighed in mock thoughtfulness. "Judging by all the men dressed as soldiers . . . I'd have to guess a male stripper-gram agency."

Wilder shot Jenny a stern look, but Christine unexpectedly threw back her head and let out a hearty laugh. "Oh I like you," she stated in an amused voice as she crossed her arms. "I love a dark wit in a person. I think we're going to get along famously."

"I hope so Ma'am," Jenny said curtly.

"I regret to say though Jenny, if Captain Wilder hadn't assured me of your compliance and trustworthiness, I would have been forced to consider alternative ways to silence you. As it is, I've been convinced to let you in on our little secret here. Captain Wilder informs me that you're clever and brave, and that we could put you to some use. Tell me – how much do you already know?"

"Well, I know that you trace these floating spheres of light – anomalies, you called them?" Jenny added to Wilder with a false questioning look. Wilder nodded, so she continued, "And I know that creatures come through, and you capture them."

"Indeed we do," Christine nodded as she turned towards the doors of the old warehouse. "In fact, we've acquired quite a collection."

"Why?" Jenny asked, trying not to let the eagerness in hearing the answer show through her voice. "Why are you collecting them?"

"Well that, Jenny, is a very interesting story," Christine replied. "One that I cannot do justice to right now. I'm afraid you're curiosity is going to have to be satisfied with this for the time being . . ."

She nodded at Wilder, indicating that he should open the large metal door. He immediately obliged like a dog performing a command for a biscuit, and with a gruff noise of exertion, he pulled the door open. The rank smell was the first thing that Jenny became aware of, and she immediately clapped her hand across her mouth to stop herself from retching. Johnson and Wilder appeared unfazed by the smell, or else they were simply used to it. They both entered the room first, and Jenny fell in line behind them as she was expected to, her trepidation mounting with each step she took. The humongous room was pitch black upon first sight, although red beams shone out blindingly, stretching from the tall ceiling straight down to the floor. Jenny squinted in an attempt to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness, although she did not need her vision to know that there was something there in the shadows, invisible to the eye, but its presence enough to make the hairs on her arms prickle.

Light suddenly poured into her eyes as the room was illuminated, blinding her so fiercely that she staggered backwards, her arm flying up to shield her vision. Strong arms were around her waist, steadying her as she blinked furiously, trying to see anything. A second after however, she wished that she had indeed stayed blinded. When the images became focused, her heart palpitated violently as she found herself almost face-to-face with what appeared to be a Velociraptor, only separated from her by the glowing beams. With a shriek, she jolted away from the cage and into Wilders great build, and he held her still, his touch gentle and comforting.

"It's alright," he whispered in her ear soothingly. "They can't hurt you. You're safe."

Jenny felt her mouth fall open as her eyes travelled around the room. There were over a dozen electronic cages, each housing a different species of creatures, from gigantic centipedes to oversized scorpions, all circling impatiently in their enclosures.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Christine Johnson said brightly, casting a fond eye around her 'collection'. "And it's only the beginning."

"What do you want with all these creatures?" Jenny demanded, unable to hide the shock from her voice. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Another story for another day," Christine replied cryptically as she approached Jenny, who was still in Wilder's arms. "For now, just count yourself lucky that Captain Wilder has consented to keep an eye on you. If he hadn't, it might have been the case that you would have gotten to know these creatures a lot better after all."

Jenny's blood ran cold at the implication of that comment and, trying not to imagine what fate had befallen past witnesses to their little creature collection operation, she straightened up, determined not to show any fear. After all, she dealt with creatures such as these almost daily, and as it stood, she knew she had far more to fear from the people surrounding her than she did from the beasts pacing in their electronic cells.

* * *

"I'm going to nip out and get us a bottle of wine," Wilder said as he grabbed his keys from the side table.

"Okay," Jenny said numbly, sitting on the couch and staring blankly ahead.

She could barely focus since she had set eyes on all of those creatures. Wilder had brought her back to the apartment, and had been trying to draw her into casual conversation ever since, but all Jenny could keep thinking of were the things that Johnson could possibly want to use the creatures for. Every idea she came up with seemed more terrible than the last. She needed to tell someone about this before it was too late . . . they needed to be stopped . . .

"I won't be long," Wilder added, reaching forward and pulling her towards him, kissing her swiftly on the temple.

"Yeah," she sighed absently, her mind still firmly back in the 'facility'.

Wilder seemed to sense her mood, as he paused for a second next to her. "I know today must have come as a bit of a shock," he said quietly as he pulled on his jacket. "But you'll get used to the idea, I promise. I did."

Jenny turned to him and hitched her best fake smile on her face. "I'm fine," she lied, relaxing her expression from the previous frown she had worn. "Just go and get the wine – I could really use a glass. Or eight."

"Okay," he smiled, before he strode towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Jenny sat frozen for a moment, listening to his heavy footsteps dying away down the corridor. As the sound dissipated, she suddenly shot up, and before she had even realised that she had decided on what she was going to do, she was yanking the phone off the receiver and dialling Cutter's house number.

She held the phone to her ear, her nerves mounting as the repetitive ringing tone droned on and on.

"Come on Nick, answer the phone . . ." she whispered, biting her thumbnail. "Answer your bloody phone . . ."

She scowled deeply as she was confronted with the voicemail, but such was her need to pass on the information that she hardly cared that she was speaking to a machine rather than the real Cutter.

"Nick – there's no time to explain," Jenny exclaimed into the phone. "Just get over to the old warehouse on Hatherly Street now. There are creatures there - " she cut herself off as she heard footsteps come back up the stairs again, her heart jumping to her throat.

Panicking but trying to keep a level head, she hung up the phone, and quickly dialled a random and nonsense number. She only replaced the receiver when the door opened.

"Jen I forgot to ask, do you fancy red wine or - ?" Wilder began, but he stopped dead as his gaze fell on her, his eyes narrowing maliciously. "What were you doing with that phone?" he asked in a dangerous whisper.

Trying in vain to control her racing pulse, Jenny answered as casually as possible, "I was going to make a call."

He stood in the doorway for a few moments, his expression stony and his lips thin. Jenny could practically feel the blind fury radiating off him. Then, she jumped violently as he slammed the door shut behind him, and started towards her. "I thought I told you that you were - under _no_ circumstances - allowed to contact anyone?" he shouted, stopping when he was merely a few inches from her, and towering over her threateningly.

Jenny ensured that she raised her chin to meet his, and kept her cool. "I have people that'll be worried about where I am," she stated calmly. "My family, my friends, my boss - "

"WHO DID YOU PHONE?" he bellowed, making her start again.

"I was going to call my mother if you must know!" she shouted back, knowing that now was not the time to play coy. "She's probably thinking that I'm dead in a ditch somewhere - "

"Oh that can be arranged Jen," he snarled, before turning his back on her, picking up the phone aggressively. He pressed 1471, clearly meaning to see the number which she'd dialled. "It says last number not recognised," he said eventually, his voice wavering in anger as he dropped the phone back on the receiver.

"Well that's nothing to do with me – I didn't even get a chance to dial!" she yelled back, forcing her voice to sound indignant.

"And why should I believe you?" he demanded, stepping into her personal space again.

"Why shouldn't you?" she challenged him. "I've never done _anything_ to make you think I can't be trusted. I've done everything you've asked – I've spoke to no one, I've allowed you to keep me a prisoner here, I've stopped asking questions. What more do you want from me?" she ranted, flinging her arms out in feigned frustration. "All I wanted to was to go on a date with a nice guy, and have fun. Well let me tell you something Wilder - " she poked him in the chest hard, " – I am _not_ having fun. I really like you, despite all of this, and I actually think we could have something here. But you've got to _trust_ me. Otherwise – what's the point in any of this?" she finished, her hands on her hips in her bossiest stance.

Silence fell between them for a few suffocating moments; Jenny ensuring that she was glaring at him.

After a long while, he let out a frustrated noise and ran his hand through his hair. "I understand that you want to speak to your mum and your friends," he said in a forced-calm voice. "And I want to trust you. But . . ." he trailed off, his grey eyes fixed on the floor. "Well, trusting women doesn't come easy to me anymore. So you're just going to have to be patient with me. Okay?"

Her heart rate returning to normal, Jenny relaxed her arms, thanking God that she had a finely honed ability to be able to rant her way out of a sticky situation – she suspected she had gained that particular gift from her mother. "Okay," she nodded with a small smile.

"Right then," he said briskly, leaning over and grabbing her coat off the stand. "Why don't you come with me and we can go and choose a film to watch tonight?"

Jenny accepted her jacket off him with a rueful smile, knowing that this was just a way for him to keep her from attempting to contact anyone whilst he was out. "Sounds good," she said curtly, pulling on her coat as they walked towards the door.

* * *

Cutter ached everywhere as he let himself into his house, not having any desire to check the lateness of the hour, but knowing that it was well passed midnight. It had been one long, trying day with two anomalies to deal with; both seemingly leading to the same place. Well, the fact that the team had to run around for nearly twelve hours attempting to round up a flock of Ornithomimus' from each anomaly certainly suggested that they led to the same era. If Cutter hadn't been so tired, he would have found this further evidence of temporal fault lines extremely intriguing, but as it was, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity. Perhaps Stephen, Abby and Connor were young enough to find the evasiveness of the bird-like dinosaurs a fun challenge, Cutter was too old to be amused by having to race around in the mud all day. Grumbling, he threw his keys on the table and automatically pressed his answering machine to check any messages. It came as quite a shock when Jenny's panicked voice suddenly issued out of the machine as clear as if she was standing next to him:

"_Nick – there's no time to explain. Just get over to an old warehouse on Hatherly Street, now. There are creatures there - "_

That was it – end of message. It was, Cutter noticed nervously, as if she'd been cut off mid-sentence by something. Or someone. Glancing at his watch for the first time, he noted that it was two-thirty in the morning, and he really didn't want to call all the team out again after they had only just escaped from the hell that was ARC paperwork. Let them sleep, he thought as he gathered his keys up again. He'd go and check out what Jenny was talking about, and if it turned out that he did need backup, Stephen and the rest of them would only be a phone call away.

Surprisingly no longer tired, Cutter turned and left the tranquil stillness of his house.

* * *

A long and supremely boring action film flickered in the background, but Jenny had barely paid it much attention. An empty bottle of wine and two half-filled glasses stood forgotten about on the table whilst Jenny found herself getting more and more interested in other matters. She was lying on the couch with Wilder on top of her, both of them kissing furiously like they were a couple of adolescents ceasing their opportunity whilst her parents were out. Jenny's head span pleasantly with the wine and she tilted her head back to allow Wilder to kiss down her neck, whilst his hands roamed down her body, stopped at the edge of her blouse before travelling back up her stomach. Her hands slid up his shirt and she scratched down his back hard, liking the way he groaned and gritted his teeth against her skin as she did so -

_Ring ring . . . ring ring . . . ring ring . . ._

"Damn it!" Wilder exclaimed as he straightened up, fumbling for his mobile that was buzzing violently on the coffee table.

Jenny sat up also and adjusted her blouse, feeling a pang of disappointment at the interruption which she immediately hated herself for. This was just a job, she reminded herself for what felt like the millionth time. It was just a job . . . she couldn't afford to get too friendly with the target . . .

Wilder flipped open his phone and held it up to his ear. "I'm busy – what do you want?" he barked, obviously not much happier about the disruption than she was. However, whatever he was being told swiftly change his expression from irritated to completely dumbfounded. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said shortly before snapping the phone shut.

"Something wrong?" Jenny asked curiously as she ran her hand back through her hair, now feeling a hundred percent sober.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he replied with a forced smile as he leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "Go to bed – I'll see you in a little while," he added as he got to his feet, adjusting his pants as he did so.

He gathered up his jacket, and left without as much as another word.

"Oh – okay," Jenny said as the door closed behind him, slightly confused as to his swift departure, but more bemused about the feeling of emptiness his leaving gave her.

* * *

Cursing whoever it was who had been caught trying to break into the facility, Wilder sped through the darkened streets of London haphazardly, eager to get this matter sorted so that he could get back to what he and Jenny had started back at his apartment. She had said she hadn't wanted to take things further whilst she was his guest under Christine's instruction, which he had begrudgingly understood, but tonight she had seemed more relaxed . . . more pliable . . . God, he had half a mind to ring the neck of the intruder upon sight just for interrupting what he was sure would have been a very satisfying evening.

As he pulled up outside the warehouse, he spotted two of his men near the corner, holding a figure between them in a vice-like grip. Grumbling about how long this interrogation was going to take, Wilder got out of the car, slamming the door shut with unnecessary aggression.

"So what have we here?" he shouted over to the restrained man as he walked towards them. "Someone who fancies themselves an explorer - "

But Wilder cut himself off as a patch of moonlight illuminated the struggling man's face, and with a jolt, he realised that he recognised him. He was a sandy-haired man fast approaching middle-aged, with a face full of stubble and eyes that were so blue their colour was visible even in the dim light. He was the man that Jenny had been speaking with in the alleyway beside the bar. The man that had supposedly made a pass at her, which she had refused. But why was he trying to break into the creature facility . . .

"We found him trying to jimmy open the door with a crowbar Captain," the soldier Reynolds said as he struggled to keep the man's arm twisted behind his back. "He won't tell us his name, or what he's doing here - "

"Did he have anything else on him?" Wilder demanded, his eyes never leaving the man's face. He could tell there was also recognition on his side.

"Just this Captain," Reynolds replied, handing over what appeared to be a wallet.

Wilder flipped it open, and squinted at the cards that were lodged in the side of it. He pulled the first one out, his eyes flitting over it carefully . . .

He nearly dropped the wallet in shock.

It was an ARC identification card.

He looked back down at the man, and watched him grit his teeth against the pain of his restraint. "Bring him to the base," Wilder ordered to his soldiers sternly, his eyes still studying this 'Professor Nicholas Cutter's' face. "I've got a few questions for him."


	44. ARC spies

**Just a quick word to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far; especially CakeyxClickx, Nathol99, sopheezmum, jojokidi and Stephanieella96 :D **

**Enjoy guys x**

* * *

Chapter 44

"How much did he see?" Christine asked in an urgent whisper, her eyes narrowed as they looked into the mirrored window overlooking the cell where they had secured the intruder.

"I don't know Ma'am," Wilder replied honestly, watching as the man struggled against the ties that bound his hands to the chair. "He was found trying to break into the creature facility."

"He must have been tipped off," Christine said, her voice sounding bitter and angry. "How else would he have known where to look?"

Wilder grimaced at the thought, his mind automatically fluttering to the conclusion he had jumped to the moment he had set eyes on the struggling Professor Cutter. But he didn't want to even contemplate the fact that Jenny had been working against him. He was aware that they hadn't met that long ago, but he _knew_ her. He_ knew_ that she wouldn't betray him like that. The way she smiled at him; the way she kissed him – it couldn't all be fake. And besides, how could she even be linked to the ARC? It was impossible.

And yet . . .

"There's something I should probably tell you Ma'am," Wilder said gravely, knowing that he was obligated to tell his boss everything, even if it was irrelevant. "I've seen that man before," he continued, nodding towards the window. "I caught him speaking to Jenny when we went to a bar the other night."

Christine snapped her head around, her eyes almost sparking with anger. "What?" she spat venomously.

"She said that he had just hit on her," Wilder explained reluctantly. "And I think that she was telling the truth," he added, almost insolently.

Christine turned round to face him fully, looking completely livid. "You're job isn't to think Captain – it's to follow orders," she said sharply. "Whether you think she's innocent or not, the fact of the matter is that she was still fraternising with a known member of the ARC. The team leader in fact! And the night after we show her the creature facility, it just so happens that the ARC leader stumbles across the warehouse - "

"With respect Ma'am, it could just be a coincidence," Wilder interjected, still convinced that Jenny was entirely innocent.

"With respect Captain, that's for _me _to decide," she snapped. "Go and fetch her. Now."

"Ma'am," Wilder nodded as he withdrew, knowing he couldn't disobey a direct order.

"And don't tell her anything about our little hostage," she added, turning back around to look through the glass again. "I want to see her reaction when she first lays eyes on him."

"Yes Ma'am," Wilder nodded again, before walking off down the corridor.

* * *

Cutter tried with all his might to break the binds around his wrists, but whoever had tied them had done it so tight that his circulation was being cut off. After trying in vain to slip his hands out of the restraint, he gave up, breathing hard against the piece of masking tape covering his mouth. He had to admit – he was finding it difficult to control his panic. He knew that Wilder had recognised him from that run-in in the bar, and that he had now put Jenny's life on the line. God, _how_ could he have been so stupid? For the first time in his life – and he couldn't believe he was actually thinking this - he wished that he had listened to Lester. He should have stayed away from her. Now, they were both in deep.

The door opened from beside him, and he looked around as Christine Johnson stepped into the room, her smile not quite concealing the fury etched in her expression.

"Professor Cutter is it?" she said curtly, her hand on her hips as she waited for an answer. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard such good things." Cutter tried to open his mouth to reply, before remembering that he was gagged. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said with a mockingly sympathetic sigh as she strode over to him. With one quick movement, she yanked the tape from across his mouth; the pain of it forcing a yelp out of his split lip. "Is that better?" she asked in a falsely sweet voice.

He glowered up at her, not wanting to dignify her question with an answer. "What is this place?" he asked instead, his voice stronger than he would have imagined.

"I think I'll be asking the questions today Professor," Christine said, giving him a chiding look as she folded her arms. Like Jenny, she seemed to possess the remarkable ability to look both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. "Starting with what you were doing trying to break into one of my private facilities?" she continued, raising her eyebrow at him.

Cutter looked up at her, trying to mask his panic with a nonchalant shrug. "I was just having a look," he stated. "To see what was in there. Curiosity's not a crime is it?"

"No. But breaking and entering is," Christine retorted smoothly. "Now I'm an intelligent woman Professor. Intelligent enough to know that it's too much of a coincidence that James Lester's progeny just so happened on my warehouse," she finished, her cool eyes studying his expression as if to judge his reaction. When no answer was forthcoming of him, she sighed and lowered herself to sit on the chair against the wall opposite him. "Do you want to know what I think Professor?" she asked as she crossed her legs, her fingers absently fiddling with the piece of tape she had ripped off his mouth. "I think that you've been given some information," she continued, her gaze never leaving his face. "I think you've got a plant in here."

Cutter's stomach clenched, but he desperately tried to keep his face impassive, not wanting to give anything away that might implicate Jenny.

"But I don't think you're going to tell me anything about that," Christine concluded as she stood up slowly, staring down at him. "Not that it matters," she sighed as she leaned forward, and before he could protest, she placed the tape back across his mouth. "I'll get to the bottom of this soon enough," she finished, flashing him a dazzling smile before sauntering off, leaving him with a deep and ominous sense of dread.

* * *

Jenny felt herself being drawn out of a deep sleep by rough fingers gliding gently down her back. She opened her eyes just as she felt warm lips tracing soft kisses up her neck. With a contented sigh, she turned around onto her back to see Wilder perched at the side of her bed, and judging by the washy light peaking through the curtains, it wasn't long after sunrise.

"Hi," she breathed with a smile as she closed her eyes again. "You didn't come back last night."

"I'm sorry," he murmured back, now ghosting his fingers up and down her bare arm. "I had some things to sort out. In fact, that's why I've come back. I need your help with something."

She opened her eyes again, genuinely surprised. "With what?" she asked, frowning.

"Well you'll have to come with me and find out, won't you?" he answered cryptically, patting her arm before standing up. "Get some clothes on, and I'll meet you in the car in ten minutes."

Jenny still didn't understand, but she did as she was told and dressed quickly. She noticed that Wilder was unusually quiet during the car journey. It wasn't like he was a particularly chatty person in general, but Jenny could just sense that there was something he wasn't telling her. That and the fact that she could feel a nervous fluttering in her stomach . . . something was wrong. She could sense it.

They pulled up outside the base, the first place she had met Christine Johnson, and she followed Wilder inside in silence, her trepidation growing by the second. He led her downstairs into what she could only assume was the basement area, and along a narrow corridor that was dimly lit by flickering lights on the peeling ceiling. They passed two soldiers who were stood to attention outside a specific room. After giving them both a fleeting glance, Wilder marched passed them and into the room, Jenny following close behind him.

She very nearly gasped in shock when her eyes fell on the person tied up, and it was only by coughing that she could manage to disguise her shock. To her complete and utter horror, Cutter was bound tightly to a chair in the far corner, his mouth taped up and his expression panicked. When their gazes met, his eyes widened with fear.

Oh God – what the hell was he doing there?

Christine Johnson stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the adjacent wall, her face expressionless as she surveyed the room and everyone in it.

"You remember this man, don't you?" Wilder's voice broke into Jenny's stupor.

Jenny looked around at him, sincerely hoping that the terror wasn't showing on her face. "He's the guy that propositioned me," she replied immediately, her voice annoyingly small. "In the alley by the bar."

"Indeed," Christine said, speaking for the first time. She straightened up and rounded Cutter's chair slowly, resting her hands on his shoulders. "We found him snooping around the creature facility."

"You've never seen him before, right Jen?" Wilder interjected in a strained voice. He was looking at her so intently that she felt as though he could see straight into her mind. "Just tell me that you don't know him."

Jenny looked back at Cutter, feeling her heart throb painfully as their gazes met again. "I don't know him," she stated, despising herself as she did so. "I just thought he was some sort of weirdo." The hurt in Cutter's eyes was too much to bear, so she looked away, forcing her gaze back on Wilder.

"And you're sure you don't know him?" Wilder pushed, a guarded look in his eye.

"I'm – I'm positive," Jenny replied in the most self-assured voice she could manage. "I'd never seen him before in my life."

"Well then – that makes things easier," Christine said brightly as she ruffled Cutter's tousled hair. Then she straightened up, and walked back around the chair. "Get rid of him," she added to Wilder.

Jenny stomach disappeared as her words sunk in, unable to believe her ears.

"Hang on!" she exclaimed, turning to Wilder with a pleading look. "What are you doing?"

"He's seen enough to get us investigated by the Minister," Christine answered for him as brushed past Jenny to lean against the door frame. "As soon as he runs back to his ARC pals and tells them what he knows, we're done for. The only way to keep him quiet is to kill him."

"You can't be serious?" Jenny gaped, her heart pounding faster than it ever had done in her life.

"This is just business Jen," Wilder said, not looking her in the eye as he reached for his gun. "Rogers!" he shouted loudly.

At once, one of the soldiers entered from the corridor. "Captain?"

"I've got a little job for you," Wilder said, handing his own gun over to his soldier. "Show Professor Cutter how we deal with ARC busybodies."

"Captain," the soldier nodded, not a flicker of emotion staring in his cold expression.

He pointed the gun directly at Cutter, who jerked backward, his shout muffled against the tape.

"NO!" Jenny screamed, numbing panic shooting through her.

She suddenly found herself starting forward and aiming a kick at the soldier's crotch. She knew she must have been crazy – the man was twice her size and was a trained soldier to boot. But the soldier doubled over immediately with a cry of pain, clearly caught off guard by her unexpected attack. Mercifully, he dropped the gun which she scrambled to pick up. Hurriedly, she straightened up and stood in front of Cutter, aiming the gun at Christine, Wilder and the soldier in turn.

Wilder turned with a deep scowl of disappointment and slammed his palms against the wall.

Christine Johnson smiled with a shake of her head. "Oh Jenny . . ."

Jenny backed away, keeping the gun aimed at Johnson's head as she rounded Cutter's chair. Doing her best to keep the hand holding the gun from shaking, she bent down to try and free Cutter's hands.

". . . Just when I thought we could be friends," Christine continued, not looking at all scared at having a gun pointed at her. "Now it looks like we've got two ARC spies to get rid of."

Jenny didn't reply, too focused was she at trying to untie Cutter without taking her eyes off everyone else.

"Do you even know how to fire a gun Jenny?" Christine continued in a light conversational manner, as though they were discussing the weather.

Jenny actually knew how to fire a gun better than anyone else in the room - barring the soldiers of course – but again, she refused to be toyed with. She kept tugging at the bondage around Cutter's wrists, but it was too tight and stubbornly refused to loosen.

"I can't – I can't do it," she said through gritted teeth to Cutter, who responded by trying to pull his arms free more insistently.

"Give me the gun Jenny," Wilder said in an eerily calm voice as he stepped towards her. "Don't make it any worse for yourself - "

"Stop or I'll shoot!" Jenny yelled, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

He seemed to hesitate for a split second. "Jenny – give me the gun," he repeated firmly. There was something very chilling about the calmness in his voice.

"I'm warning you – don't come any closer!" she exclaimed, for a moment giving up on trying to untie Cutter to focus on Wilder.

She was unnerved now about how little regard he was paying her threats; clearly he didn't believe that she was serious. He stepped forward again, and – panic making her decision for her – Jenny pointing the gun directly at his chest and squeezed the trigger.

The gun clicked loudly, although to her horror, it didn't fire. She tried again, pulling the trigger sharply . . .

Nothing happened.

The gun wasn't loaded.

It suddenly dawned on her why Wilder had been so calm with the threat of a gun to the heart. He had already anticipated what she might do, and had ensured that the gun she got her hands on was bullet-less.

She had been set up.

Jenny glanced up from the useless gun in her hand to Wilder, her blood running cold with pure terror. He had paused in front of her, watching with a smirk as she worked everything out. Then, as quick as lightening, he smacked her with the back of his hand, so forcefully that the gun flew out of her grasp. She hit the ground hard, her head cracking sickeningly on the floor.

She knew no more but darkness.


	45. Blind apologies

**Sorry it's took ages for this update – I've been so busy with graduation prep and securing a job that I haven't had time to think, let alone write! Hope you enjoy! It will come to an end **_**eventually**_**, I promise! **

* * *

Chapter 45

Cutter watched, completely and utterly powerless as Wilder smacked Jenny so hard that he knocked her out cold. As her head cracked on the floor, Cutter yelled against the tape across his mouth, fighting his restraints so fiercely that he felt the rope cutting into his wrists.

"Well well well," Christine Johnson sighed, rubbing her slender hands together. "What _are_ we going to do with you two . . ."

Cutter tried to shout Jenny's name over and over again, desperate to rouse her, but the best he could manage to produce was a muffled cry.

"She had you completely fooled Captain," Christine continued, giving Wilder a cold look.

"So it would seem," Wilder answered as he crouched down and cupped Jenny's chin in his hand. "Shame. She's a pretty thing," he added as he turned her face towards him.

Cutter tried to shout _'don't touch her!'_, but the tape kept his lips firmly together, and instead some sort of garbled plea issued out of his throat.

"You know, I don't think our Professor Cutter here likes you touching her," Christine said, sounding highly amused. "Have you two got some sort of thing going on?" she added to Cutter, gesturing between him and an unconscious Jenny.

Cutter gave her the dirtiest look he could muster as he tugged on his restraints more insistently. As he did so, he felt a warm stickiness on his wrists, telling him that the chafing rope had drawn blood.

Wilder was chuckling coldly. "Believe me mate, I've touched her more than this," he said, before he turned to Christine. "Where do you want them?"

"Put them in cell three for now," she replied, turning her back on them and sauntering out of the room. "Whilst we have a little talk about how you're going to clean up this mess Captain. Oh and tell Leek to organise the creatures being moved to site B," she added, stopping by the door. "I'll not be taking any chances."

She disappeared around the corner as Cutter felt white-hot anger lick his stomach like flames. _Leek_. That lying, traitorous little sneak . . .

Wilder pulled Jenny's limp arm over his shoulders and hoisted her up into his heavily muscled arms. "Rogers," he barked to the solider standing next to him, nodding towards Cutter.

The next thing Cutter knew, the soldier was coming towards him, the handle of his gun raised and ready to strike. He felt a splitting pain in his head, and darkness enveloped him.

* * *

Jenny felt her consciousness returning to her slowly, and the first thing she became aware of was a blinding pain emanating from the back of her head; it felt like it had been cleaved in two. She opened her eyes with difficulty, although for a second she thought they were still closed – why couldn't she see anything? It was a while before she realised that she was surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though someone had a thick hand clamped over her eyes, blinding her. She blinked to make sure that her eyelids were still open – it was so hard to tell as the darkness pressed on her eyes like a black veil. Then, with a groan of exertion, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, turning her sightless eyes left and right to try and figure out where she was. Her hands groped around slowly, making up for her useless vision as they travelled over the floor that felt strangely like a giant polythene bag was covering it. Then her hands found the wall and slid up it as she concluded that she was in some sort of pitch black cell . . . the last thing she remembered was a gun . . . an unloaded gun clicking . . .

A sudden moan from next to her made her jump violently and a frightened yelp escaped her lips as she backed away from whatever it was, scrambling groggily on the floor until her back hit the opposite wall. It was so frustrating that she couldn't see anything – not the walls, not the floor, not even her own hand in front of her face.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice strangely high pitched.

Whoever it was moaned again, although this time her ears were more attuned, and she knew that she recognised the voice.

"Nick?" she said uncertainly. When there was no reply, she felt her way forward like a blind person until her fingers happened upon a figure slumped unconscious on the floor. "Nick?" she said again, a little louder than before. Her hands travelled up his chest until they found his face, and she cupped it, feeling the hot trickle of blood on his cheek as she did so. "Nick!" she shouted, shaking his head to rouse him.

He moaned again and moved his head side to side a quarter of an inch each way. "Wozzamata?" he murmured incoherently.

"Nick, it's Jenny," she said loudly and clearly, ignoring her own spinning head and aching eyesocket. "Can you hear me?"

Nick's hand suddenly reach up, and she felt him resting it on his head, clearly in the place he'd been knocked out. "Where are we?" he asked in a small, weak voice.

"I don't know," she replied as she shuffled back to lean against the wall. The room must have been minuscule, not that she could see it to think otherwise. "Are you okay?" she asked blindly into the darkness.

She heard him straighten up slowly with a sharp intake of breath. "I feel like my heads had an axe taken to it," he replied, and she sensed that he had leaned on the adjacent wall.

"Nick . . ." she began but she trailed off, unsure of how to say it.

"Yes?" he prompted when it seemed no more words seemed forthcoming her. He sounded cold and distant, whether because of the pain he was in or because he was mad at her, she couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?" he asked, although she noticed his tone had thawed a little.

"You were right," she admitted, her voice wavering with emotion. "I was in over my head. I should have listened to you."

Silence fell in the pitch black room for a few minutes, which seemed to make the darkness intensify.

"I'm the one who should be apologising," he said eventually in a gruff voice. "I'm the one who landed us in this by getting caught - "

"I was the one who asked you to go to the warehouse," she pointed out. "Although I _did_ mean for the whole team to go, and not just you."

"Well you didn't specify that," Cutter said, his tone still rather stiff. "Jenny?" he added.

"Hmm?"

"You and Wilder . . ." he began slowly, as though he was bracing himself.

She cut him off immediately, knowing what he was going to ask. "There's nothing going on between us," she said hurriedly, glad that the darkness concealed her flushing cheeks. She remembered well what she and Wilder had been doing when he had received the call about Cutter, but she didn't think it wise to mention it. It was something Nick didn't need to know about. And anyway, it wasn't like it mattered much – they were likely going to be executed in a little while anyway.

As if her thoughts had flittered out of the cell, the door suddenly opened, and light poured in so blinding that both Jenny and Cutter's arms jumped up to shield their eyes from its intenseness. Blinking stupidly as her vision adjusted, Jenny lowered her arm to see Christine Johnson standing over them with three soldiers standing behind her. One of them was Wilder, Jenny noticed with an uncomfortable squirm.

"Jenny Lewis, aged 29, living on 8 Cresington Street, working as a PR expert for the Anomaly Research Centre," Christine's cool voice reeled off. She had clearly hacked into the ARC's files to pull her information. "Fiancée of Mark Banks, who was killed at an anomaly site by a Postosuchus due to your negligence - "

"Stop," Jenny ordered, a spark of anger forcing her to speak. "Don't you _dare_ talk about Mark."

Christine laughed – a laugh that made the hairs on the back of Jenny's neck prickle. "Take him," she ordered, gesturing casually to Cutter.

Wilder and another soldier stepped in the cell and grabbed Cutter by the arms. He struggled against them fiercely, but Wilder punched him in the stomach – so hard that he doubled over, coughing harshly.

"Are we going to have a problem?" Wilder snarled as they stopped Cutter from falling in pain.

Wheezing, Cutter straightened up and allowed them to drag him out of the cell. They stopped right outside it and turned Cutter to face Jenny, pushing him down to his knees.

"I want you to watch," Wilder spat, grabbing Cutter's hair and roughly pulling his head up. "Rogers, you know what to do," he added to the only soldier that wasn't restraining Cutter.

The soldier Rogers was about to step into the cell before Christine Johnson stopped him with a brisk movement of her arm. "Actually Captain, I want you to be the one to do it," she said, her voice cracking like a whip. "Seeing as _you_ are the one who is responsible for all this."

It was only then that Jenny realised what they were going to do to her, and her insides plummeted sickeningly - it suddenly clicked into place why the floor was covered up. They couldn't very well leave her blood splattered on the ground in case the place was investigated for their disappearances.

Wilder seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before he strode forwards, pulling his gun out as he did so. Cutter began to struggle more wildly as Rogers took over Wilder in restraining him.

Wilder pointed the gun directly at Jenny's head. "Sit up," he commanded, his grey eyes dull and pitiless.

"NO!" Cutter was yelling, fighting his captors with every bit of his strength. "NO! Leave her alone! Kill me instead!"

"Shut it you, otherwise I'll draw this out so you can watch her suffer," Wilder snarled at Cutter before returning his steely gaze to Jenny. "I said straighten up."

Panic was causing Jenny's chest to constrict and she felt as though she could not breathe properly. Yet she managed to force herself up into her knees so that she was kneeling in front of him.

"NO!" Cutter bellowed, his voice shaking with either sorrow or anger.

Jenny raised her head to look Wilder directly in those cold grey eyes, not wanting to die cowering like a child. If he was going to shoot her, he could damn well look her in the eye as he did it. She wasn't going to beg. Her breaths came in short, shallow pants and she was aware that she was shaking as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She could feel her heart pounding fit to burst in her chest. As the seconds ticked on slowly, she didn't know what was going to kill her first – the bullet or the anticipation of it.


	46. Salvation?

Chapter 46

The seconds appeared to stretch into hours as Jenny looked up at Wilder, feeling an odd numbing sensation spreading through her arms and legs. She seemed to have lost the ability to breathe all together by that point, but it hardly mattered. She knew that soon enough, she'd never draw another breath again. Wilder's eyes were crinkled with anger and his thin lips were pulled into a menacing snarl, although she noticed that the gun in his hand shook slightly. That was strange, Jenny thought. He was a well seasoned killer, so why should he be shaking at the prospect of shooting her - a nobody . . . an insignificant . . .

"Do it Captain," Christine Johnson's voice barked sharply. "Now."

Cutter's shouts and protests became a distorted soundtrack in Jenny's ears, but her focus was on Wilder alone. He took the safety off the gun slowly, and held it steady to aim directly between her eyes. It was true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before death. Jenny's mind started whirling with unwanted images . . . Cutter leaning in to kiss her in his living room . . . Mark flinging the incriminating photographs on the table with a face like stone . . . Mark's expression frozen in a look of shock as the creature leapt at him . . . and the blood, all the blood . . . Cutter trying to hold her up as she sank to the floor, her shoulders shaking with grief . . .

Suddenly, she wished that Wilder would just pull the trigger and get it over with; bring her the peace that she had seldom felt since she had joined the ARC. Surely dying was the easiest part of life? It was the only thing certain in this world, and surely something that everyone went through couldn't be so bad?

She forced herself to keep staring at Wilder, willing him to do it . . . to end it . . . but then something very strange happened. His eyes that had been crinkled with such hate slowly relaxed, and his lips uncurled as he lowered the gun. "I can't do it Ma'am," he stated quietly, a definite hint of shame in his voice.

"What?" Christine snapped. "Why not?"

"Because she's a woman," he answered, dropping the gun fully down to his side. "I can't kill her."

"Oh for goodness sake, are you my Captain or not?" she barked, her eyes glinting malevolently. "Here," she gestured. "Give me the damn gun, and I'll do it myself."

"Make no mistake Ma'am, I want her dead as much as you do," he said in his usual calm and collected voice. "But I can't shoot her. I can't kill a woman with my own hand. But I may have a better idea."

Christine studied him with her cool eyes before folding her arms. "What?"

"Lester knows that she's here, right?" he began gruffly. "And it won't take much deduction to work out that we've captured _him_ - " he pointed at a still-struggling Cutter, " – as well. Lester would make it his mission to prove that we were behind their disappearances, yes?"

"Possibly," Christine answered sullenly. "He is a tiresomely stubborn little man."

"But if we were to say . . . put them through an anomaly?" Wilder suggested, glancing round at Jenny. "Then we could fix it so that it looks like they've gotten trapped there of their own accord."

"And it would mean that we wouldn't have to get rid of their bodies as well . . ." Christine trailed off thoughtfully. After a few moments of contemplation, she sniffed and raised her head high. "Very well Captain. Am I to assume you can take care of this yourself?"

"Absolutely Ma'am," Wilder nodded.

Jenny didn't know whether to cry from the wave of relief that washed over her, or because of the new prickle of fear.

* * *

Cutter could hardly believe it. One minute, he was being forced to watch in horror whilst Wilder was about thirty seconds away from shooting Jenny at point blank range, and the next minute he was sitting next to her in the back of an SUV, hands and feet bound tightly. Wilder was driving them to some secret location where Cutter assumed an anomaly was waiting for them, ready to swallow them up and trap them in another world. But he didn't fight anymore. He would rather be marooned in a different era for the rest of his life than have had to watch Jenny die. At least they'd be together. At least they'd have a hope of surviving.

The SUV was speeding into dense woodland, and the vehicle jutted every time a tyre travelled over a pothole or minuscule ditch. Cutter's arm brushed against Jenny's as the car jerked and he felt that she was trembling, although when he looked around at her, her face seemed composed if not calm.

"You okay?" Cutter asked her in a low voice.

She looked around at him with vacant eyes, still in obvious shock about being a trigger pull away from death, but just as she opened her mouth to reply –

"No talking!" Wilder barked, his grey eyes meeting Cutter's in the mirror. "No doubt you'll have all the time in the world to talk soon enough. If you live that long . . ."

Cutter caught Jenny's gaze again, and frowned as he saw her widen her eyes, jerking her head towards Wilder. He gave her a confused look and shook his head, indicating that he didn't understand her, but then she lifted her bound hands and pulled them backwards in a swift motion, nodding at Wilder again. He suddenly understood what she was asking him to do, but surely it was madness . . . they could all end up dead . . .

"Now!" she whispered urgently.

Heart pounding, knowing this was going to end badly, he pulled the rope between his wrists taught and darted forward, wrapping it around Wilder's neck. Cutter yanked the rope so tight that his hands met at the back of the driver's seat, and the man let out a noise of surprise as his hands jumped to his throat. The car swerved to the side, narrowly avoiding hitting a tree as Wilder spluttered and jerked, trying desperately to free himself.

"Get his gun!" Cutter yelled at Jenny, struggling to keep the man restrained.

Jenny lent forward and fumbled frantically to pull Wilder's gun from his holster. If Wilder realised what she was doing, he did nothing to stop her – probably because he was too busy trying to stop himself being strangled. His fingers groped and pulled at the rope around his neck with such brute strength that it took all of Cutter's own strength to keep him pinned to his seat. The car was still whizzing at full speed through woodland, jerking from side to side with the thrashing movement of Wilder. Cutter actually found himself marvelling at how they hadn't hit anything yet.

But that marvel turned out to be short-lived.

Just as Jenny triumphantly pulled out the gun, holding it awkwardly in her bound hands, the car bashed into a giant tree trunk that jutted out at on odd angle. The sheer force of the blow pushed the car far enough sideways that the wheels left the dirt track and the vehicle hurdled down a steep embankment. In his shock, Cutter loosened his grip on the rope and Wilder seized his opportunity to lurch forward, grabbing the unruly wheel to try and bring the car back under his control. Everyone was being thrown around the car like ragdolls, and trees seemed to zoom passed in a confused blur. Despite Wilder's efforts to steer the SUV, it would have been impossible for him to avoid the log or rock or whatever it was that they soon hit.

Cutter knew the car had flipped by the strange sensation in his stomach and the fact that he could see the leaf-strewn ground flying by the side windows as they rolled. Shouts and screams filled the car, but whether from Wilder, Jenny or himself, Cutter was unsure. When the car finally stopped, it took a few moments for his swimming brain to realise that the car had come to a stop on its roof and that he was lying on what would have been the cars ceiling. For some strange reason, Cutter felt no pain except a bizarre outer body experience, although there was a pungent metallic taste in his mouth which told him that he was bleeding from somewhere.

The car was deathly silent and - trying to ignore the mist that seemed to be descending over his eyes - Cutter forced himself to lift his head and look around at the figure next to him.

Jenny was lying unmoving; her arms sprawled out above her head and the broken remnants of rope still tied around each bleeding wrist. A slow trickle of deep red blood was dripping down her pale face from a wound on her head.

"J – Jen . . ." Cutter tried to mumble, but he was unconscious before he could get her name out.


	47. The struggle

Chapter 47

Jenny had never been unconscious before she had joined the ARC, barring one incident when she was in high school involving a bottle of vodka and some very questionable friends. Now however, this was her second time being knocked unconscious within a twenty-four period, and the sensation didn't seem to get any better. Choosing to ignore the nausea jolting in her stomach, Jenny forced her eyes open. It took a few moments for her swirling brain to register that she was looking up at the car seat, and so she slowly deduced that she was lying across the roof. Unable to piece together the events that led up to this, she propped herself up on her elbows, but she yelped in pain; not only was her head pounding fit to burst, but she seemed to have lent on shards of broken glass from the shattered window next to her. A more powerful surge of nausea shot through her upon moving, so she closed her eyes again until it passed, repeating to herself over and over again that she was not going to be sick. Reaching up to brush her hair out of her face, she dimly registered that it was sticky with blood, but as she seemed to not be seriously injured she decided not to dwell on it. All she wanted to do was work out how she had gotten there . . .

Her eyes opened with a jolt.

"Nick?" she whispered, her voice coming out hoarse. "_Nick?_" she repeated more urgently as she forced herself to look around at his unmoving figure. Everything hurt with each little movement she made.

Nothing. No response.

Jenny reached over and shoved him as hard as she could summon the energy for, barely registering that the rope around her wrists had broken, and to her intense relief he expelled a sudden groan, confirming that he was still alive.

"Nick?" she said again, unable to get her voice to stop shaking.

"M'alright," he murmured faintly, his bound hands reaching up to prod his head gingerly. Even through the gloom, Jenny could see that blood was seeping out of his nose.

They both fell silent for a moment, trying to collect themselves. It was only then that Jenny heard it. A slow and ominous dripping was coming from behind them, and that sound chilled her more than any gun-cocking or creatures growling could.

"Nick, can you hear that?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Cutter didn't reply for a long time, and for a fleeting moment Jenny thought he'd lapsed into unconsciousness again. But eventually, he answered in a low voice, "We have to get out of here."

It wasn't like Jenny needed telling that of course, but that seemed to be easier said than done. She hurriedly hoisted herself up into a sitting position and reached up, but it took her befuddled brain a few goes before it figured out how to use the upside-down handle. Even so, it refused to budge – the car roof seemed to be too crushed to allow the door to give way. She heard Cutter try the door on his side as well, but from the groan of annoyance coming from him it was clear he wasn't having anymore luck than she was. Forcing herself calm, Jenny sat back again, giving herself a moment to clear her head and think. Her eyes fell upon the smashed window next to her and she considered it for a few seconds. There were still large shards of glass sticking out around the opening and it was certain to hurt if they tried to get through, but what other choice did they have? It was either get shredded to bits by the glass, or lie and wait for the leaking fuel to ignite and blow the car up.

Not exactly the best options in the world, Jenny though, but the choice was clear.

Shifting herself so that her still-bound legs were facing the window, she kicked to rid the opening of the worst of the jagged glass, ignoring how much her legs ached with the exertion. When she was satisfied that as much of it had been removed as possible, she quickly scrambled around and brushed aside some glass so that she had a place to rest her hand. Her other arm snaked out of the window and she forced her body follow. Her blouse caught on some rouge shards of glass, but otherwise she struggled to her feet outside with only a few more scratches to show for her efforts.

"Nick!" she hissed, bending down to see him through the opening. "This way!"

It took a lot of careful manoeuvring, but eventually Jenny managed to help pull Cutter out. It was difficult as his wrists and legs were still bound, and he seemed to have incurred worse injuries than she herself had judging by the way he was limping, but it seemed that he wasn't in any immediate danger.

Quickly, Jenny pulled the remnants of the rope off her wrists and then proceeded to free her ankles from the binds as well. Once she had untied Cutter, he reached over and grabbed her heavily scratched hand. "Let's go," he said, pulling her.

She made to follow him, but then something caught her eye. She turned and saw a figure still in the upturned car, stirring slightly.

Wilder.

Jenny had completely forgotten he had been there; or her muddled brain had blanked out that particular part of the story. She pulled Cutter to a stop.

"What?" he grimaced, still clearly in pain as he turned to face her. Then his eyes followed hers, and widened in shock. "No Jenny, you can't be serious - "

"We can't just leave him there," she protested, unsure as to why that idea was uncomfortable to her on a myriad of levels.

"He tried to kill us!" Cutter exclaimed, looking at her like she'd gone mad. "And he very nearly succeeded - "

"I can't leave him there, and I _won't_," she stated with a note of finality, before she moved forward.

Wilder's window was smashed also, but Jenny kicked the remaining shards away as she had done with her own window.

"Jenny," Cutter said from behind her, panic audible in each syllable.

She looked around and saw that his eyes were wide in fear, and when she followed his line of vision she clearly saw why. The upturned car bonnet had begun to smoke, and a sliver of glowing orange light was visible between the crumpled layers of the silver metal.

"Help me get him out!" Jenny ordered, reaching down and grabbing one of Wilder's arms.

Cutter obeyed, whether reluctantly or not she didn't really care, and together they heaved Wilder out through the opening. They kept on pulling until they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the car that was slowly being enveloped by flames. Then suddenly, an explosion ripped through the air, and the force of it knocking both Jenny and Cutter off their feet.

Regaining herself despite her spinning head, Jenny crawled over to Wilder and walked her fingers up his neck, prodding for a pulse. She pressed firmly on the crease in between his throat and his jaw line, and felt a slow and steady throbbing under her fingertips.

"He's alive," she sighed, dropping her hand from his neck and instead beginning to root through his pockets.

"Great," Cutter muttered sarcastically. "What are you doing?"

She didn't reply, but instead pulled out Wilder's mobile phone. Flipping it open, she dialled 999 as the heat of the nearby flames washed over her.

"999, what's your emergency?" a strict woman's voice said on the other side of the phone.

"We need an ambulance," Jenny said, her voice trembling.

"_What are you doing?_" Cutter hissed again, pulling on her arm.

She waved her hand to shush him whilst she finished the call. When she hung up, Cutter was looking at her like he didn't recognise her. "Do you realise what you've just done?" he asked, his eyes narrowed angrily.

"I've just saved his life," she replied coldly as she staggered to her feet, every bone in her body aching.

"Exactly," he replied through gritted teeth. "And how long do you think it'll take him to come after us again? Do you have any idea how much danger we'll be in if he survives?"

"He's just Christine Johnson's henchman," Jenny retorted. "She's the one who wants us dead. We'd be in danger either way. But at least this way, I wouldn't have another death on my conscience."

Silence fell between them, but Cutter's accusing eyes had changed from angry to sympathetic. "Jenny - " he began, but Jenny cut him off, not wanting him to reassure her for the millionth time that what happened to Mark hadn't been her fault.

"Let's just get out of here before the ambulance arrives, shall we?" she interjected, and before he could reply, she turned her heel and begun the struggle up the steep embankment.

After a few moments, she could hear the rustling of leaves behind her, telling her that Cutter was following her, still limping heavily.


	48. The rebuff

Chapter 48

Jenny looked at herself in her bathroom mirror, hardly recognising the person staring back at her. She had several stitches on the side of her forehead to close over the deep wound she had sustained during the car accident, and she had a black eye; a little present that Wilder had given her back at the base. Her arms were covered with deep gashes and scratches, although none of them had been serious enough to require anything other than cleaning at the hospital. All in all, she reflected, she had escaped Christine Johnson's clutches more intact than she had anticipated. But then why did she feel so rotten? Squeezing the side of the sink in frustration, she thought back on the day, feeling her annoyance mount. She knew exactly why.

She had been summoned to Lester's office alongside Cutter as soon as the hospital had marked them passable, and as they had both filed in, she knew by her boss's expression that she should prepare herself for a telling off. She was not disappointed.

X

"_You know I never thought I'd say this to you Jenny, but you've let me down," Lester said in a brusque voice, giving her a cold look from behind his desk._

_Jenny felt as though she'd been slapped. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice cracking with anger. She was standing in front of him, battered and bruised, and still shaking from being a heartbeat away from being shot, and all thanks to his orders! How on earth could he be blaming all this on her?_

"_I thought I could trust you to get me some useful information," Lester snapped, his fury palpable. Jenny opened her mouth to argue back, bit he cut her off, apparently knowing what she was going to say. "As it is, Leek has disappeared entirely since this morning, and that warehouse full of creatures you promised me turned out to be empty - "_

"_They moved them when they found out who I was!" Jenny shouted back furiously._

"_Yes, and whose fault is that?" he bit back, his eyes flashing. "Now we've got nothing to bring them down with. No evidence to go to the Minister with. You blew your cover Jenny, it's as simple as that - "_

"_It wasn't her fault!" Cutter interjected defensively. "I was the one who got caught. She had to either blow her cover or watch them shoot me - "_

"_Yes, and I won't tell you what choice I would have made!" he snapped, his rage forcing him to his feet. _

"_We nearly died doing your dirty work for you!" Jenny yelled, seeing red. "Next time you want to find something out, you can bloody well risk your own neck - !"_

"_The fact of the matter is that you had a task, and you failed!" Lester interjected, fury radiating off him like heat off a stove. "I won't make the mistake of relying on you again. Now get out of my sight, the both of you. We'll continue this tomorrow when you've calmed down."_

X

Jenny turned on the tap and cupped some ice cold water in her hands, splashing it on her face. Why was it since joining the ARC, everything she touched turned to pot? Her engagement, her friendships, her career, her _life_ . . . it all seemed to be spiralling out of control. She reached for a towel and patted her face dry, reliving the moment when Cutter had caught up with her in the ARC car park that same day.

X

"_Jenny!" Cutter shouted from behind her. She turned, still inwardly seething from Lester's rant, and watched as he walked up to her. _

"_Everything okay?" she asked him more coolly than intended, hoping that this little chat wasn't going to take too long – she just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and think about the many horrific things she'd like to do to her boss. Locking him in his office with a hungry raptor seemed to be winning out at the present._

"_Aye," he nodded, his gaze fixed at a point over her head._

_A few moments of silence fell between them, which eventually led to Jenny raising her eyebrow at him. "Look Cutter," she began, running her hand back though her hair, "I feel like I haven't slept in days, so can we make this quick?"_

"_Oh, of course," he nodded immediately, before he cleared his throat. "So . . . um . . . how are you feeling?" He must have known by her expression that it was a silly thing to ask, as he hurried to correct himself, "Sorry, that's a stupid question . . ."_

"_No it's not," Jenny replied, her temper - which always seemed to be so close to the surface lately - spilling over before she could contain it. "Let's see, how am I feeling . . . well Nick, I've been beaten unconscious, I've had a gun held up to my head at point-blank range, I've been in a horrific car accident in which we barely escaped before being blown to pieces . . . and to top it all off, my boss thinks I'm a useless failure. So - to sum up Cutter – I'm not quite feeling my best at the moment."_

"_Of course you're not," he mumbled, his gaze still refusing to meet hers. "I'm sorry. Like I said, it was a stupid question . . ."_

_His genuinely pained expression made her sigh guiltily, and she looked away for a second, regaining her calm. "No, I'm sorry," she said eventually in a voice as hollow as she felt. "I'm just tired, that's all. How are you?" _

"_Yeah, I'm fine," he replied gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just a few scratches and bruises. Nothing major."_

"_Good," she nodded awkwardly. She knew that he'd sustained a cracked rib and a mild concussion, but he seemed not to want to discuss his ailments and so she wasn't about to bring them up._

"_So . . ." he began with his hand in his pockets. "You – you should go home and get some rest. It's been a long day."_

"_Yes," she nodded, feeling her tension alleviate as her gaze met those soothingly blue eyes. "Yes, I think I will."_

_He gave her a small smile and touched her hand to her arm before he turned to leave, but h__e had only gone a few paces before she called him back again, needing to know the answer to something that had popped into her head as soon as he touched her. "Cutter?" He turned with a questioning look and walked back to her. "There's just something I really want to ask. I've been so horrible to you lately. So why have you done all of this?"_

"_All of what?" he asked, looking nonplus._

"_This," she repeated with slight aspiration. "Trying to protect me from Wilder, and defending me to Lester . . . why did you do it?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied his expression. _

_He looked at her for a moment with his calm, steely gaze; his expression giving away nothing. Then, he stepped a fraction on an inch closer to her. "Why do you think?" he replied, his firm tone not quite masking the vulnerability in his eyes._

_She was surprised by his forwardness, although she hadn't really needed him to explain his intentions. He had made it plain that he still had feelings for her, and she'd be lying if she said that it wasn't mutual on her part. _

_Slowly and cautiously, she moved forward until there were only a few centimetres between them, about to brush her lips against his . . ._

_For a split second, she felt him lean into her as well, but he suddenly jerked away from her. "No," he blurted out, taking a step back and shaking his head. She frowned, confused, so he hurriedly added, "You don't need this right now. You've been through enough . . ."_

_A hurt look must have flickered across her face as when she turned to walk away, humiliated, his hand was suddenly on her arm. "Look Cla - "_

_She froze, and felt him follow suit. It she been hurt by his rebuff, it paled in comparison to the indignity she felt spreading through her now. After all she and Nick had been through together, he still saw her as Claudia._

_She wrenched her arm away and continued towards her car, and Nick seemed to have enough sense not to follow her._

X

Jenny sighed deeply, feeling herself burn at the memory. What exactly had she expected from him? Nick had made it clear when they had started their relationship that he was mainly interested in her because she looked like his ex, or whatever the hell Claudia had been to him.

The doorbell rang from downstairs, pulling her out of her thoughts with a bump. She glanced at herself in the mirror again, sincerely hoping that it wasn't her mother or anyone else that she'd have to explain her black eye and stitches to. With a groan, she closed her silk dressing gown and tied the belt in a tight knot as she made her way downstairs.

_Maybe it was Cutter_, she thought with a jolt of panic. _Oh God, please don't be Cutter, please don't be Cutter . . ._

She reached out in trepidation and pulled the door open.

Her heart actually jumped into her throat. It was Wilder's and not Cutter's face looming over her. With a yelp of shock, she made to slam the door shut again, but he stopped her easily with a foot in the door. Her first adrenaline-fuelled instinct was to turn and run back into the false safety of the house, but as she did so she heard the slamming of the door behind her. She streaked down the hall, making for the kitchen and the promise of some sort of weapon, but she was only halfway there when strong arms grabbed her, and turned to slam her aggressively against the wall. She shrieked as pain emanated from her already injured head and a picture frame fell from above her, smashing all over the floor. He clamped his hand over her mouth tight.

"Just calm down!" he bellowed as she tried to jerk herself free. "_Stop it!_" he added when she kept squirming, shaking her head viciously. She made herself stop moving, but her breathing was so fast that her chest was heaving. "Are you going to calm down?" he asked her in a forced-calm voice, his hand still compressed firmly over her lips.

She nodded mutely, her widened eyes studying him. He had a cut over one eyebrow which had been stitched, and his muscular arms bore almost as many gashes as her own arms did. As soon as she nodded, he slowly withdrew his hand.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice coming out rather more high-pitched than she'd intended.

He made a sudden movement which made her flinch, but to her surprise he gently touched his hand to her chin and tilted her head to the side. He let out a low whistle. "That's quite a shiner you've got there," he said quietly, his grey eyes studying her blackened eye. "You should really be more careful."

Jenny chuckled coldly, although she suddenly seemed unable to draw a breath. "You're right, I should be more careful. About the men I let into my life."

"I think you've got that backwards _darling_," he said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he dropped his grip on her chin. "You were the one who betrayed me."

"I was doing my job," she replied defensively.

"As was I," Wilder retorted, slowly reaching his hand up to rest on the wall behind her. The action brought his face significantly closer to hers. "I must say, it's a pity we're on opposite sides. Now that I know you're an ARC PR woman rather than a ditzy beautician, you could have been a lot of use to me."

"I'd never help you," she snapped, leaning her head back on the wall to put a bit more distance between them. All of a sudden, she felt very hot.

"I'm not here for your help," he stated, his eyes as usual making her feel like she was being x-rayed.

"No," she agreed, surprised that her voice wasn't shaking. "You're here to finish the job, aren't you? You're here to kill me."

He smirked. "You see the thing is, I couldn't pull the trigger on you back at the base," he pointed out in the same deep voice. "But you seemed to have no problem pulling it on me."

"The gun wasn't loaded - "

"You didn't know that," he interrupted, although strangely enough he didn't sound cross – he sounded impressed.

"I pulled you out of that car wreck," she informed him venomously. "But now I wished I'd just left you there to burn. You're evil."

He chuckled coldly as his hand slid into the waist of his trousers. Smiling menacingly, he pulled out a gun, and – calmly as you like – he held it up to her stomach. "Maybe I should kill you now," he whispered, watching her expression curiously. "After all, what's one dead PR tart? I bet no one would even bat an eyelid."

_You're probably right,_ Jenny thought to herself. _I have no-one._

"Do it then," she snarled, calling his bluff.

He slid his hand down the wall and lightly brushed his fingertips against the collar of her dressing gown, ensuring that he kept the gun pushed into her heaving stomach.

"I didn't come here to kill you," he stated as he tugged open the collar slightly. "I came here for something else." He slid his fingers lower down, pulling open her gown.

Breathing hard, Jenny narrowed her eyes, finally realising what he was suggesting. "And what makes you think I'd give it to you?"

He flung the gun away so that it skidded across the floor and picked her up, slamming her against the wall as his lips crushed into hers. Startled, Jenny made a half-hearted attempt at pushing him away, but he quickly pinned her wrists against the wall.

"Because you want me as much as I want you," he said; his voice full of longing as he took her lips again.

Right then, Jenny just gave up. She was sick of being told how much of a failure she was by Lester, she was sick of being second best to Cutter, and she was sick – _sick _– of carrying around the guilt of Mark every day. She needed a release. She needed someone who wanted her for _her_, and not because she looked like some one else.

So, mind going blank, she wrapped her legs around him, and they both sank to the floor.


	49. Paperwork

**Short chapter here, just a filler! I keep feeling annoyed at the fact that this story is sooooo long, but then I remembered that this story is in two parts so **_**technically **_**it's not as long as it seems . . .**

**So yeah, that's how I'm soothing my guilt about the millions of chapter uploads. It **_**will**_** end soon, I assure you! Enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter 49

Stephen sighed and sunk further down in his swivel chair, tapping his pen restlessly against the desk. He hated days such as these with no anomalies, no creature incursions, and a mound of paperwork to get through. This wasn't what he signed up for when he joined the ARC; he was a field man through and through, and he found the dreary task of filling in reports both tedious and unnecessary. He found it hard to believe that some people voluntarily choose to do this sort of thing for a living. If he had his way, he'd be tracking some prehistoric creature through the woods right now rather than being stuck in the safe yet stifling anomaly research centre. Still the day way young, Stephen reasoned as he swivelled side to side on his chair. Something exciting could still happen.

He glanced around the main room at his colleagues to see if they were enjoying the joys of paperwork anymore than he was. Connor was playing around with the Detector, probably running some sort of diagnostic on the thing. He had gotten into the habit of doing that frequently due to the paranoia Leek had left him with in regards to spyware. Cutter was sitting on the same desk as Stephen, although he was on his laptop, and was no doubt avoiding the paperwork by trawling through database of prehistoric eras and creatures, or else was searching for any queer goings on that might indicate a creature incursion that had fallen under the radar. Abby was on the desk across from him, her platinum hair bobbing as she scribbled furiously on the piece of paper in front of her, but upon closer inspection, Stephen realised that she was doing a doodle instead of filling in her report. Feeling relatively cheered about his own paperwork short-comings, he glanced at Jenny who was sitting across from Abby. She of course was methodically filling in a report sheet, pausing every now and then to look up a fact on her laptop before scribbling something down on the paper. She had changed a little since she had returned back from her undercover operation a few weeks ago. Her black eye had completely faded and her head wound healed, but there was still something about her . . . something that was different. She was quieter that she used to be, preferring to either be by herself or sit in silence instead of issuing orders and bossing everyone about. She was pleasant enough when she was spoken to of course, although Stephen noticed that whenever she smiled, her eyes didn't light up as they used to, but instead had a guarded and cool look in them.

Stephen glanced at Cutter again, wondering if his friend had gotten over the feelings he had been harbouring for Jenny yet, or indeed whether they had even spoken to each other since she'd returned to her PR work. He had only ever seen them exchange a few words in the past few weeks, but they were concerning an anomaly, and even then their tones were always officious and their gazes set elsewhere. Perhaps it had just been a fling between them after all. It certainly seemed that neither of them had any intention of starting things up again. Suddenly, Stephen wondered why he was so interested in Cutter and Jenny's love lives. It wasn't like it was any of his business, and anyway, he should really be focused on his own non-existent romantic life. He hadn't exactly been putting himself out there since his ex girlfriend Alison had told him that she was ending things because he had become too distant. He hadn't really cared at the time, agreeing that they had simply grown apart since she had been in the rainforest - well that and he'd had his eye on someone else at that point. Fighting the urge he had to glance over at Abby again, he picked his pen back up with the pretence of returning to his work. He and Abby were something that was never going to happen now – not after his affair with Helen had been revealed. If Abby had been interested in him before (which he was certain she had been because of her comment about staying for breakfast when he'd asked her out after the Arthropleurid bite), she was certainly not now. And besides, judging by the way she and Connor had begun acting around each other, it was clear that she had moved on.

A ringtone suddenly cut through the silence, and Stephen glanced around as Jenny rooted through her bag. Pulling out her mobile, she flipped it open.

"Hello, Jenny Lewis speaking," she said in her cool telephone voice, balancing the mobile between her cheek and her shoulder as she typed something into her laptop.

However, a small smile suddenly slipped onto her red lips and she stood up, closing the laptop with a snap. "Yes, I can talk. Just hang on," she said into the mouthpiece as she walked off, her voice a hell of a lot warmer.

As she disappeared off around the corner, Connor swivelled her chair to face the rest of the team. "I wonder who's put a smile on her face?" he said with a childish grin.

"It's probably her new boyfriend," Abby said absently, still bent over her doodle.

The effect these simple five words had on Cutter was instantaneous. He froze, his fingers suspended over the keyboard on his laptop, and a frown had appeared on his colour-drained face.

"Her new _what_?" Stephen asked on Cutter's behalf, knowing that Nick himself couldn't very well look overly interested in this piece of information. Connor and Abby were still completely oblivious to what had gone on between him and Jenny.

"Boyfriend," Abby repeated brightly, placing her pen down and leaning her head on her hands. "It's great isn't it? It looks like she's finally getting over what happened to Mark."

"Good for her," Connor chimed in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "It's about time she started to move on - "

"But how do you know she's got a new boyfriend?" Stephen interrupted, directing his question at Abby.

"Because she told me," she shrugged. "God, I really miss being in the first throws of love. When everything's all new and exciting - "

"Who is it?" Cutter asked Abby suddenly, his voice as tense as his shoulders.

"I'm sorry?"

"Who is it she's dating?" Cutter repeated, his voice wavering with suppressed fury.

Abby shrugged again. "I have no idea. When I asked, she just said I wouldn't know him."

"Well he's obviously going to be a male model or something - you know Jenny's type," Connor interjected conversationally, scooting his chair over so he was leaning on Abby's desk. "I mean, Mark looked like Brad Pitt - "

"Okay," Stephen interrupted in a false-cheerful voice, clapping his hands together. "Why don't we stop sticking our noses where they don't belong and get on with our work?"

"I'm bored of work," Conner sighed dramatically.

"Then why don't you two go and make yourselves useful and get us all some coffee?" Stephen said to Connor and Abby through gritted teeth.

They both eventually walked off to the kitchen area, grumbling about how the youngest members of the team always got stuck making the drinks, leaving Stephen alone with Cutter.

"You okay?" Stephen asked cautiously.

Cutter cleared his throat, his gaze still set on his laptop screen despite the fact that his hovering fingers still hadn't moved. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" he replied shortly.

"Well because - "

"Jenny's allowed to date whomever she wants," he interrupted quietly, his voice oddly formal. "It's none of my business."

"Okay," Stephen said patiently. "But - "

"Just leave it alone Stephen," he snapped, his jaw set.


	50. Of all the bars

Chapter 50

Jenny leaned into the mirror and swept a thick coat of mascara over her eyelashes, inwardly cursing the bad lighting in her bedroom. When she was satisfied with the application, she straightened up and smoothed her hands over her hips, flattening her black silk dress.

"I still don't see why we can't just order in tonight," Wilder complained, still reclined in the bed, his muscular chest visible over the duvet.

Jenny sighed playfully and turned to face him. "If you had it your way, we'd never leave this room."

"To bloody right we wouldn't," he grunted, shifting himself so that he was sitting up against the headboard. "Why would I want to leave this room when you're in it?"

"Well in about five minutes I'm leaving this room to go to dinner with or without you," she said briskly. "So you can either get dressed and accompany me, or have a little alone time with yourself here whilst I'm gone," she added, turning back to the mirror and picking up her lipstick.

He let out a deep sigh from behind her, although she heard the bed creak not long after, telling her that he had gotten out of bed. "Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly bossy?" he grumbled as he pulled his pants on.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're supposed to enjoy taking your girlfriend out to dinner?" she retorted, giving him a sweet smile in the mirror as she applied her lipstick.

He chuckled as he walked up behind her. "Touché," he said as he slipped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. She relaxed back into him and sighed contentedly. "How was work today?" he added, nuzzling into her neck.

She stiffened, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "I thought we'd agreed not to talk about work?" she said, feeling the tension mount.

"I was only asking," he stated, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Well how about I start asking you where you've hidden the creatures and what you're planning on doing with them?" she snapped sarcastically. She felt him freeze, and a second later he withdrew his touch. "I'm sorry," Jenny said hurriedly, her heart thawing as she turned to face him.

"No, it's okay," he mumbled, reaching down and scooping his long-since shirt up off the floor. "You're right. We should just leave work out of the conversation," he added as he pulled it on.

"I think that'd be best," she agreed, reaching over and running her hand over the creases in his shirt. "And that needs an iron," she added with a small smile, tugging his collar.

"That's a woman's job," he said with a smirk, his fingers working on the buttons.

She tutted, and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Well it's not _this_ woman's job," she informed him, turning back to the mirror. She shrieked when he grabbed her around the waist, turning him back to face him sharply. "Can I help you?" she joked, looking down at his lips.

He pulled her into him roughly and kissed her, his hands sliding down her back. She kissed him back before she pushed him away again. "We're already late," she protested meekly.

"So we'll be later," he murmured, pulling her in again.

"We'll lose the table . . ." she trailed off as he kissed down her neck.

"So we'll go to a bar instead," he whispered against her skin, his warm breath making her tingle.

* * *

Cutter stared sullenly into his beer as Stephen meandered back towards the table with another round of drinks in his hands. He placed the pints down haphazardly and slipped into the seat opposite Cutter, and immediately picked up the conversation they'd be discussing earlier. Usually Nick would have relished a lively debate about the Permian – Triassic event being the mother of all extinctions, but this evening he couldn't summon up the enthusiasm to be remotely interested in the conversation.

Stephen had suggested going out for a drink that evening, clearly wanting to keep Nick's mind occupied, and he had protested for several minutes before giving up. He'd reluctantly allowed his friend to drag him off to some swanky bar, and although it wasn't really to Cutter's taste, at least it was getting him out of the house. The music swelled deafeningly as Stephen whittled on, clearly trying to stop Cutter from dwelling on Jenny. But it didn't seem to be working. Every time there was a pause in the conversation, the image of Jenny with some faceless guy kept popping up in his mind, and a familiar pulse of jealousy flared up. When this happened, it was all he could do to stop himself launching his glass at the wall. He kept asking himself over and over again _why_ he had pushed her away when she leaned in to kiss him after Lester's rant. If he hadn't, perhaps it would be him she was dating instead of this random bloke he knew nothing about. He had wanted to kiss her of course; in fact, he had thought of little else since they had ended things between them. But it had just felt wrong at the time. She had been through so much lately, and he had felt like kissing her back would be taking advantage. Well that, and the fact that a tiny part of him would always wonder if she'd only kissed him because she was feeling vulnerable and scared. He wouldn't have wanted that to be the foundation of them to getting back together. Of course, thinking about it was completely pointless – she was dating someone else now. He had unwittingly pushed in into another man's arms. And he _hated_ it.

" . . . my money's on increased volcanism or a shift in ocean circulation," Stephen was saying. Cutter forced himself to nod along as he took a deep gulp of his drink, suddenly wishing that he was alone. "And when you think about it - " Stephen went to continue, but he suddenly stopped, narrowing his eyes at something over Cutter's head.

"What?" Cutter asked, twisting to look over his shoulder.

His stomach seemed to disappear to be replaced by a block of ice. Jenny was walking over to a table at the other side of the bar, arm in arm with some guy. No, not _some_ guy –

Wilder.

No - no it couldn't be, Cutter thought wildly; a horrible numbing feeling spreading through his veins. She _wouldn't_. He must be seeing things . . .

He watched, his blood boiling as Wilder's hand traced down her spine tenderly, resting on her lower back as he led her into the empty booth.

"Cutter, maybe we should go - " Stephen's voice said from far away.

But Cutter ignored him, still gaping over at Jenny. He watched as they ordered their drinks and when the waiter left them, Wilder reached over and took her hand.

Before he knew it, Cutter was on his feet, blood pounding deafeningly in his ears. He was vaguely aware of Stephen calling him back, but he took no notice and marched straight towards Jenny. She was smiling at something Wilder was saying, and she only looked around when he stopped right by their table. Her dark eyes widened in shock, and her mouth fell open.

"_Nick?_" she gaped, quickly slipping her hand out from underneath Wilder's.

Cutter sensed Stephen walk up behind him, but nothing whatsoever could extinguish the fury that had flared up inside his stomach. "What – what are you doing with _him_?" he stammered, feeling himself trembling with anger.

"Look mate, this is none of your business - " Wilder began, but Nick cut him off.

"I wouldn't direct any sort of comment at me if I was you," he snarled at the man before turning back to Jenny. "Are you going to explain to me what the _hell_ is going on?"

"If we're going to discuss this, let's go outside," she said brusquely as she stood up. She barged purposely past Cutter's shoulder as she threaded her way towards the door.

After throwing Wilder a look of disgust, Cutter followed and stepped out into the chilly night after her.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed when she turned around to face him. "Please don't tell me _he's_ your new boyfriend?"

"So what if he is?" she replied insolently, folding her arms.

"Have – have you had some sort of breakdown?" he yelled, earning him strange looks from several bystanders. "Do you remember what he did to us?"

"That's in the past," she stated coldly, her voice sounding bored and unconcerned.

He gawped at her, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "He's – he's using you!" he finally managed to splutter. "He's using you to get information on the ARC! He knows that your minds all over the place and he's playing on it!"

She rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. "He happens to a nice guy Nick. He treats me with respect."

"Oh I bet he does," Cutter laughed humourlessly, feeling himself grow flushed with anger. "He was really treating you with respect when he gave you a back-hander - "

"You know what? At least he likes me for _me _and not because I look like someone else!" Jenny shouted, matching his rage.

Sudden footsteps signalled the unwanted arrival of Wilder, and Stephen hurried along in his wake, looking thoroughly harassed.

"Let's go Jen," Wilder said abruptly, giving Cutter a cold look as he placed his hand on her back to lead her away.

Cutter was baffled that she actually obeyed the command instantly, but as she turned to allow herself to by guided away, he reached forward and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Hang on - "

Before he could even comprehend what had happened, Cutter suddenly felt himself being lifted off his feet and shoved painfully against the wall. It took his reeling brain several seconds before he realised that Wilder was pinning him there by the collar of his jacket. "I've got no argument with you mate, but if you touch her again you won't live to see the morning okay?" Wilder snarled, his enraged face inches from Cutter's.

"Come on," Jenny said sternly, placing her hand on Wilder's shoulder to pull him away. "Joe, just leave him."

Reluctantly it seemed, Wilder let go of Cutter's collar roughly, and after giving him one last glowering look, he turned away. He put one arm around Jenny's shoulder and without another word, he led her away.

Cutter staggered up, ignoring the dots that were still popping in front of his eyes, and furiously made him to lunge at Wilder again, but Stephen grabbed the back of his jacket to stop him. Cutter fought back with all the strength he possessed, _needing_ to get to the man . . . _needing_ to hurt him . . .

"Cutter – no!" Stephen shouted, his voice breaking with the exertion the scuffling. "He – he's not worth it!"

It was only when Stephen all but pinned him against the wall that Cutter gave up fighting tooth and nail, and by that time both Wilder and Jenny had disappeared off around the corner.


	51. Where the loyalties lie

**Sorry, sorry, sorry! I've just started my new job and the hours (3 'til 10pm plus an hour and a half travel each way) are terrible for writing, which I'm used to doing at night. Selfish bosses :/ haha, but I'm sure once I get used to it, I'll be able to finally finish this story off!**

**So anyway, enjoy :) x**

* * *

Chapter 51

"Cutter, we've got to say something," Stephen argued as he and Nick strode down the corridors towards the ARC main room early the next morning. "We can't just do nothing - "

"No," Cutter answered shortly, pushing open the swinging door with unnecessary aggression.

"Why not?" Stephen demanded, his strides quickening to keep up with Cutter's stomps.

Cutter sighed inwardly, the dull aching in his heart becoming more pronounced when he remembered how Wilder's hand had caressed Jenny's back as he led her towards their table. He found himself wondering for about the tenth time that morning why she was doing this to herself. It was like she was on some sort of self-destruct mode. The man was an animal; he'd been several seconds away from shooting her in the head for god's sake! How could she even begin to trust him again?

"Because if I tell Lester, Jenny will think I've done it for some sort of cheap revenge," Cutter replied gruffly as they pushed through yet another door in unison.

"And if we don't tell him, she might end up in a body bag," Stephen retorted, sounding aspirated. "He's a dangerous man Cutter - "

"I'm perfectly aware of what he is Stephen, remember?" Cutter snapped.

"I just don't know what Jenny's playing at," Stephen continued, seeming oblivious to Cutter's reluctance to discuss the matter further. "Do you think she's working against us?"

"No," Cutter replied with absolute certainty. "She wouldn't do that. I know her."

"Obviously not as well as you thought."

"She wouldn't betray us like that," Cutter snapped again, not willing to believe it for a second. "She wouldn't. Just because she's in a relationship with the man, it doesn't mean she's working for Johnson."

"No, but it means that if we don't do something soon, she might be persuaded to help them whether she knows it or not," Stephen reasoned. "If you ask me, she already seems to be brainwashed - "

"Look, I'm not going to rat on her to the team, and that's the end of it!" Cutter barked, losing his already fragile temper. "Now just drop it - "

"Well either you tell them what Jenny's been up to, or I will," Stephen interjected sternly, his expression set and determined as he stormed ahead.

* * *

A repetitive and shrill beeping noise pulled Jenny out of the light, uneasy sleep she'd been in. It took her a few seconds to remember why she had a nervous feeling in her stomach, and when the memory came flooding back, her insides seemed to squirm. With a groan of annoyance, she rolled over and slammed the alarm clock hard, forcing it into silence.

"Go back to sleep," Wilder mumbled sleepily, her eyes still closed.

"I can't," Jenny sighed, turned back around and resting her forehead on his shoulder. "I've got to go to work."

"So call in sick?" he suggested sleepily, opening his arm to allow her to settle more comfortably on his chest.

"I can't," she repeated, allowing her eyes to close again. "I have to go in and face everyone."

"How bad do you think it'll be?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder to pull her closer into him.

"Well the phrase tarred and feathered comes to mind," she said, only half joking. "God, they're going to be so angry."

"So quit?" he said, so out of the blue that her eyes snapped open.

"What?"

"Quit," he repeated in a matter of fact voice. "You're better than that place anyway."

Jenny sat up abruptly, holding the sheet firmly against her chest. "I can't quit - "

"Sure you can," he said with a slight yawn, still refusing to open his eyes. "You could come and work with me."

"And why would I do that?" she questioned, feeling completely perplexed. "As I recall, you weren't exactly welcoming the last time."

He opened his eyes, and when they focused on her, they were as dark and unyielding as always. "Well that was then and this is now," he said, reaching his hand up and gliding it down her arm. "I think you'd be a valuable asset to us as it happens."

"Well I already have a job thank you," she said curtly as she stood up, pulling the sheet with her. "One that I'm going to lose if I don't get there soon."

* * *

On the drive to the ARC, Jenny kept repeating the same lines over and over in her head, so much so that it became like a mantra for the entire journey; _'It's not going to be as bad as you think . . . these people are your friends . . . they're not going to cut you out because of your taste in men . . .' _

But as soon as she walked into the ARC main room, it suddenly became clear how very wrong she was. As she pushed open the door and stepped onto the overly-polished floor of the main room, several heads snapped around at once to look at her, and she was met a stone cold wall of silent hostility. As she walked slowly towards the huddled team, all of the air seemed to drain from the room. From the look on Stephen's face he was about to say something, but to Jenny's surprise, it was Abby who spoke first.

"You lying, betraying little _bitch_," she spat with so much venom in her voice that for a second, Jenny actually thought it was another girls voice speaking.

"Abby - " Jenny began, shocked by her reaction.

"Don't you _dare_ try to deny it!" Abby interrupted hotly, looking at her with disgust. "They've told us everything! Talk about sleeping with the enemy - "

Connor was looking at her with such disappointment that she actually felt a pang of shame. As their gazes met, the boy abruptly averted his eyes as though he couldn't even stomach looking at her. Cutter had turned away from them all and focused his attention on the silent detector, his expression grim.

"Oh I bet you're loving this, aren't you?" Jenny started on him, feeling a flush creep up her neck. "I bet you couldn't wait to run back here and tell everyone - "

"Jenny?" Lester's cool voice interrupted her. She looked up to see him standing on the balcony, his posture stiff. "A word," he added before he turned and walked back into his office.

Feeling her apprehension mount, Jenny turned away from her colleagues and started up the ramp. She could feel their accusing eyes boring into her as she ascended, but she refused to look around and before long she was entering Lester's airy and yet surprisingly stifling office. He had already seated himself behind the desk and was studying her coolly with his fingertips pressed together as she stood in front of him.

"Sit down," he said in a monotone voice, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

"No, I'd prefer to stand," she answered, not liking the eerie calmness of his voice.

Lester sat back in his chair, surveying her up and down with his keen green eyes. "So is it true then?" he asked eventually.

"Is what true?" she said, although she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"That you've turned sides on us."

This threw Jenny for a moment. She had assumed that he was going to chastise her for her relationship with Wilder, but it hadn't occurred to her that he would accuse her of being a _traitor_. "No," she stammered eventually, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice. "I'd – I'd never do that - "

"But you and Captain Wilder are in a physical relationship, yes?" he pressed in a cold, detached tone.

"Yes," she answered reluctantly, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the conversation. "But I don't see how my love life is any of your business."

"You are a member of a secret sector of the government," he said, echoing the words he had used in France when she had demanded to know how he'd tracked her down. "Everything you do is my business. Especially when you're in a relationship with our enemy's right hand man."

"But he and I don't talk about work," she insisted hotly, feeling annoyed that she had to keep explaining herself over and over again. She was a grown woman for goodness sake, and she was more than capable of looking after herself. Surely she'd proved that often enough? "I know it's hard for you to comprehend," she continued coldly, "but some of us do have lives outside the ARC."

Lester's lips thinned, but other than that he made no indication that he had heard her jab. "He's an incredibly dangerous man - "

"He's my boyfriend," Jenny interrupted defiantly. "And you can't tell me who to go out with."

"_Jenny_," he said firmly. "You wouldn't be the first person in the world to fall for the wrong person. I do know a little of what you're going through."

Jenny narrowed her eyes, unable to see what he was getting at. "What are you talking about?"

"Christine never used to be as manipulative and vindictive as she is now," Lester answered slowly, as though he was judging how much to tell her. "There was a time when she was incredibly charming. And quite beautiful."

Jenny found it difficult to keep the surprise out of her tone. "What? You mean . . . you and she - ?"

"It was a long time ago," he interjected, looking rather uncomfortable himself. "When we were both young civil servants together. But believe me Jenny, people like she and Wilder only care about what they can get out of you. And when they've squeezed the last ounce of usefulness out of you, they'll dispose of you faster than you can click your fingers - "

Jenny shook her head. "He won't do that to me," she said confidently. "I know he won't."

"Jenny, you can't date a member of Christine Johnson's team _and_ be a member of the ARC – it doesn't work like that!" he burst out, clearly losing the battle at keeping his agitation at bay. "You have to end it. I don't want you seeing him again."

"And if I do?"

Lester sighed deeply in frustration and ran his hand over his tired-looking face. When he finally straightened up, he had a resigned look on his face. "You're suspended for a week," he said in a quiet, sombre voice. "Effective immediately,"

Jenny felt like an ice bucket had just appeared in her stomach. "No, James - "

"You've given me no choice Jenny," he cut her off, sounding disappointed. "Use the time alone to think things over. It's time to decide where your loyalties lie."

"But - "

"That'll be all," he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Off you go."

* * *

Jenny was in the locker room, seething so much that she was finding it difficult to keep her hands from shaking. She was grabbing her things from her locker and throwing them unceremoniously into her gym bag when she heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. She didn't need to look around to see who it was.

"I bet you think this is really funny, don't you?" she stated venomously as she shoved a spare pair of shoes into her already overflowing bag.

"What are you doing?" Cutter asked as he cautiously stepped up behind her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped, still refusing to look round at him.

He seemed to hesitate for a second. "You're – you're not leaving are you?"

She straightened up and slammed the locker shut so aggressively that the whole row of lockers shook. "I've been suspended," she said coldly, meeting him in the eye for the first time. "Thanks to you," she added with a mocking bow of appreciation. "I'm starting to get the impression that you're on a one man mission to ruin my life - "

"Suspended?" he repeated, sounding completely dumbfounded.

"Yes," she said, looking him up and down. "Because you had to go running to Lester - "

"I was worried about you Jenny," he insisted forcefully. "That man is _dangerous_ - "

"Oh for goodness sake!" she exploded, her temper reaching its breaking point. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I am capable of looking after myself!"

"He's brainwashed you," Cutter said with a shake of his head. "You're not yourself – you haven't been yourself since Mark died. You're angry, you're hurt and you're _vulnerable_. Don't you see? He's using that to alienate you from everyone who cares about you so that he'll have you right where he wants you. I know you're stronger than this - "

"He'd never hurt me," Jenny stated, her voice quivering with rage. "Never."

"Okay, let's say that's true, even though I highly doubt it," he said. "What about us? Your team? What about the damage he could do to us? Or don't you care about us anymore?"

Jenny turned away from him with the pretence of zipping up her bag, although the real reason was so that she could hide how she had tensed at his words. They had cut deep. "Of course I do," she replied quietly.

Silence fell between them for a long while as Jenny dragged out the task of closing her bag, wanting to postpone the moment that she'd have to look round at him again.

"You know how I feel about you Jenny," he said unexpectedly, causing her to freeze.

When she had recovered herself, she forced herself to spin round and look him directly in those piercing blue eyes. "Yes, I know exactly how you feel," she said in a brusque tone. "You couldn't get enough of me when I was engaged to Mark, and then when I was available you lost all interest - "

"You're the one who ran off to the South of France for two months!"

"I'm talking about when you pushed me away when I went to kiss you!" she argued back, although she felt herself grow hot at the admittance. "Do you know how humiliated that made me feel?"

"So you're just seeing Wilder to get back at me then?" he said, his voice edged in disbelief.

"Surprisingly Nick, not every life decision I make centres around you," she said cruelly as she shouldered her bag. "My point is that now I'm seeing someone else, you all of a sudden want me back. You don't want to be with me, but you don't want anyone else to be with me either - "

"I've _always_ wanted to be with you," he said, his voice wavering with frustration.

"No you haven't!" she insisted angrily, the sound of him almost calling her Claudia still resonant in her mind. "You blow hot, and then you blow cold. Just face it Nick, the only time you want me is when you can't have me," she finished as she barged passed his shoulder.

She didn't turn round as he called her back; indeed she didn't stop until she reached her car. As she chucked her bag in the back seat, she couldn't seem to stop her eyes from falling on the ARC again, and somewhere in her brain, a thought flickered.

_Would she ever see the place again?_


	52. A traitor is made

Chapter 52

Wilder had just pulled on his shirt when his phone began buzzing violently in his trouser pocket. With a sinking feeling, he fished it out and flipped it open, knowing who it was before they had even spoken.

"Ma'am," he said curtly down the phone with a guilty glance up at the clock.

"Captain," Christine said, a touch of annoyance evident in her cool voice. "Shall I be expecting you today by any chance?"

"I'm just about to come in now Ma'am," he replied as he quickly attempted to do his shirt buttons up one-handed.

"Excellent," she said briskly. "And how goes your little project?"

"It's right on schedule Ma'am," he replied confidently. "Her team are already turning on her. Pretty soon, she'll have no one left but me."

"And you're certain you can get her onside?"

"Absolutely Ma'am," he said with a nod. "She's so isolated from her friends' right now it'll be fairly easy to sway her."

"Excellent," Christine said again, this time sounding marginally more impressed.

Wilder paused for a moment. "You will remember our agreement Ma'am?" he asked eventually, his voice tentative. "Nothing happens to Jenny - "

"Yes, yes, you'll have your little prize once this is all over," Christine replied impatiently. "As long as she plays ball that is. I am rather intrigued as to how you imagine keeping her when she finds out that you've used her to get to her friends - "

"I'm sure I'll think of something Ma'am," he interjected in a colder voice than was probably wise. He'd had enough sleepless nights about that issue as it was without having to discuss the matter with his boss.

"I'm sure you will Captain," she said, sounding unconcerned. "Although if she puts her pretty little nose out of line again - "

"She won't Ma'am," he reassured her. "I can handle Jenny."

"Be sure that you do," she said in a brusque voice. "I'll expect you here in twenty minutes."

"Absolutely Ma'am," he said before slamming the phone shut.

With a groan of frustration, Wilder threw it down on the table and returned to the task of buttoning himself up. It wasn't like he'd forgotten the reason why he'd pursued Jenny again after he found out who she really was, but the prospect of asking her to turn against her friends and colleagues was not one that he relished. He knew that the time was fast approaching of course; now that her team had discovered their relationship, it wouldn't be long before she was ousted. But the thought of asking her to help him bring down the ARC grinded on him. There was always the possibility that she'd dump him on the spot as soon as he mentioned it, which wasn't a welcomed thought. He hated to admit it – even to himself – but he didn't want to lose her. He had thought that any romantic feelings he'd had for her had been extinguished as soon as she turned out to be a traitor, but instead of being hurt by her trickery, he actually found himself impressed. There were very few people who would have been able to work him like she had, and it'd left him feeling a mixture of shame and intrigue.

He knew that he'd have to ask her soon though – it wasn't as if the plan could be put off much longer, and that aside, Jenny seemed to be as emotionally vulnerable as she was going to get. It was now or never.

Making a new resolve that he'd broach the subject with her that night, he quickly patted his hair down and gave himself a brief look over in the mirror before making for the door. He grabbed his keys off the side table as he opened the front door, and when he straightened up, he was taken aback to see Jenny standing behind it, her hand raised as if she'd been about to knock.

"Jen?" he said, surprised.

As his gaze travelled over her, he noticed that her eyes were slightly red as though she'd been crying, but other than that her outward appearance was as cool and composed as ever.

"Can I come in?" she asked in a quiet sombre voice.

"Well . . . of course," he trailed off as he moved aside to let her in. As she brushed past him, he inhaled the scent of that perfume he loved so much. Ignoring the fact that his heart had began to pump faster, he gestured for her to go into the living room. "I was just about to go to work," he informed her as he followed her in.

She either didn't hear his comment or ignored it, but she made no reply as she turned away from him, her hands in her coat pockets and her gaze roving casually from the floor to the wall. Wilder allowed the silence to stretch out between them before he cleared his throat.

"You know, I was really about to leave," he said gruffly, running his hand through his hair. "Could we do this later - "

But before he had even got the words out, she shocked him by putting her hand to her mouth to contain a sob, her brown eyes brimming with fresh glistening tears.

"Jen?" he gaped, feeling himself grow hot around the collar. Crying women made him very uncomfortable, especially when it was a woman that was usually so poised and collected. "What's the matter?"

"Everything's falling apart," she said, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her pale face. "Everything's just going wrong, and I don't know what to do - "

The shock of her reaction wearing off, he stepped forward. "Come here," he said in a voice he considered to be gentle as he pulled her into his arms. "What's happened?"

"I've been suspended," she said as she rested her forehead on his shoulder, her words broken by sharp inhales as she fought to control her crying.

"Because of me?"

"Because I refused to let James tell me who to date," she corrected him as she pulled away, wiping the wetness away for under her eyes. "I just can't believe his cheek!" she burst out as she began pacing around the room. "How _dare_ he!"

"Sit down," Wilder said as he took her by the arm and led her over to the couch. As she lowered herself down, he took a seat next to her. "Now calm down and tell me what happened from the beginning."

Jenny took a deep breath to collect herself, and started to explain exactly what had been said. Every time she mentioned that Professor name, he noticed that she refused to meet him in the eye – something she did frequently now that he thought about it. When she had finished her explanation, Wilder shifted closer to her and took her hand, seeing his opening and seizing it.

"This is what the ARC's like Jen," he explained. "You didn't see it before because you've been on their side, but they're all about repression and control."

She reached up to wipe fresh tears away impatiently. "I can't believe I'm going to lose my job," she said numbly.

"So what?" he scoffed. "The offer to come and work with me still stands."

She looked around at him, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "I can't work with you," she said. "These people are my friends - "

"Are they really?" he interjected, wanting to plant the seed of doubt in her mind. "Because when I last checked, friends support one another. They don't turn their back on you like they all have."

She sighed deeply and looked away again, pulling her hand out of his.

"Listen," he tried again. "I'd never _ever_ turn you away like they have. You can trust me . . ." he trailed off, unsure of how to casually slip it into conversation. "I may have a little job for you to do as it happens," he landed on eventually.

She turned her gaze back to him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What?"

Heart pounding somewhere in his throat, Wilder braced himself for the fall out. "I need you to get me admittance into the ARC."

She looked at him for a moment with a blank expression, as though she thought she'd misheard him. "I – I can't do that," she stammered eventually, sounding aghast.

"But you've got to," he pressed further, knowing he couldn't stop now that he'd started. "This is the only way that the ARC can be run properly. Have you ever heard the silly story about the villagers and the river?"

"No," she answered, still looking at him with disbelieving eyes.

"Well the villagers noticed the dead carcass's of animals floating down the river in the current. They didn't want their drinking water getting contaminated, so they began pulling them out, but when they did, more and more bodies began floating passed - so much so that soon enough, it took all of the villagers to drag them out of the water. One villager studied the scene in front of him before he began walking upriver. Another villager chided him for not helping them, but he replied 'You're pulling the dead animals out of the river – I'm going to see who's putting them there in the first place' - "

"What the _hell_ has this got to do with anything?" Jenny interrupted impatiently.

"That one villager wanted to sort out the _cause_ of the problem, like we want to do with the anomalies," he replied patiently. "The others were simply dragging out the dead bodies for a short-term resolution and weren't solving anything. Just like Lester's doing. Every time he's sending you all out to deal with an anomaly, he's just blocking a leaky dam with his finger. It's not helping anyone. The only thing that will is finding out what's causing the anomalies in the first place."

"And you can do that?"

He hesitated for a moment, knowing that one misstep meant he was done for. "There are things we're willing to do that the ARC isn't," he said carefully. "To protect the public. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"So what exactly are you asking me to do?" she said, her brown eyes studying his face.

"I told you – we need you to get us access to the ARC," he repeated. "In the dead of night, whilst everything's quiet."

"Why?"

"We have a plan," he continued, wanting to give her the general idea without confessing the entire operation to her. "To make Lester relinquish his power over the ARC. We need to make him look incompetent to the Minister so that he'll put the anomaly operation under Christine's control instead."

"And how exactly are you planning on doing that?"

Again Wilder hesitated, knowing that the next words out of his mouth was likely to earn him a slap. "Let's just say we're going to put the creatures we've acquired to good use," he answered reluctantly. "It'll appear to the Minister that they escaped from the ARC's menagerie, so it looks like Lester's lost control of the situation. There'll be no casualties," he lied quickly, seeing her expression. "Like I said, we'll slip them into the ARC in the dead of night - "

Jenny stood up abruptly and turned her back on him, moving to stand by the window. "I can't do that," she stated in a voice barely above a whisper. "I _won't_."

"Don't you want to get them all back Jen?" he pushed, standing up himself and walking up behind her. "Tell me you wouldn't love to see the smug look wiped off Lester's face. He blamed you blowing your undercover work, and now he's suspended you for trying to be happy. He deserves it - "

"These people care about me," she stated in a shaky voice, her gaze set out of the window.

"_I_ care about you," he insisted, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I love you." The words were out of his mouth before he had mastered any control over them and he felt her freeze under his touch, but he figured that as he'd come this far he might as well continue. "I'd never abandon you like they have. You and me – we're in it together."

She turned round to face him, a guarded look in her eye. "You don't know what you're asking me to do."

"I'm asking you to pick a side," he insisted, holding her firmly by her upper arms. "You're either with me or you're against me."

She pulled herself out of his grasp with a humourless laugh. "God, you sound just like Lester," she stated venomously as she turned back to the window.

"Well Lester's right," he snapped. "You can't have it both ways."

She sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose. Inspired by the fact that her resolve seemed to be weakening, he stepped towards her again, adopting a friendlier tone as he put his arms around her.

"I've been thinking that when this is all over, I might go into early retirement," he said as he planted a kiss on her shoulder. "I've done my time in the military. Maybe you and me could go away together?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere," he breathed, ghosting his lips up her neck. "As long as I'm with you, I don't care where it is. Maybe somewhere hot? Would you like that?" She didn't reply, but instead turned around to face him. He was pleased to see that the wary look in her eyes had vanished. "So are you in then?" he pushed, needing to know her answer before he let her out of his sight.

She bit her lip and glanced away again, her brow furrowed as though she was in deep thought. When she returned her gaze back to him, she looked resolved. "I'm in."

Relief flooded Wilder's stomach and he smiled genuinely as he reached forwards and pulled her into a kiss. She kissed him back, winding her hand through his hair as she did so. After his euphoria had died down, they broke apart.

"Right," she stated briskly as she adjusted the smudges in her lipstick with her fingertips. "Well, I'd better let you get to work."

"Alright," he said, still beaming that he'd succeeded in getting her over to his side. "I'll come round to yours when my shift ends, yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled before pecking him on the lips again. "Bye," she added as she turned to leave.

* * *

Jenny waited in her parked car as Wilder drove off from a few cars in front of her. As soon as his SUV disappeared around the corner, she reached into her handbag and pulled out her mobile.

The phone was answered after only two rings.

"James Lester speaking."

"James, it's Jenny," she said, forcing her voice to come out firm and assured. "I need to come and speak to you. Now."


	53. Enough

**I can see the light at the end of the very **_**very**_** long tunnel! It's still going to be quite a few more chapters though, so bare with me. I am slightly concerned whether there might be a chapter limit to stories, but let's hope not!**

**Sorry about the sporadic updates, but work – as much as I'm enjoying it - seems to be taking up all of my time :/ how dare it. Welcome to the real world ey? **

**Haha, hope you enjoy. Sorry it's a tad short, but the next one will be extra long to make up for it x **

* * *

Chapter 53

Cutter sat back with his hands clasped together on his lap, listening intently to Lester prattle on about his newly-concocted plan. Jenny stood leaning against the wall of the office, her gaze distant as she nibbled at her thumb nail, although Cutter could tell that she was taking in every word that was being said. Stephen was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes set on the floor.

"We'll put a tracer on you so we'll know where the creatures are," Lester was saying to Jenny. "And you'll be wearing a wire. You're main objective is to cut off the power to the building so that our men will be able to take the place when they're most vulnerable."

"And if I can't?" Jenny asked in a detached voice, her gaze still set firmly downwards.

"I have every confidence in you," Lester said airily. "The real problem will be getting Wilder to agree to show you where they're keeping the creatures in the first place."

"You leave that to me," Jenny said, her voice tense as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

Cutter dropped his eyes to the floor, trying to ignore the jealousy threatening to bubble up in his stomach.

"And when Jenny gives the word, we storm the building?" Stephen asked.

"No," Lester replied curtly, straightening up in his seat. "There will be no _'we'_. This operation is no place for a civilian. The military will handle it. You lot will be waiting a safe distance from the building, and will only be needed when we're transporting the creatures. That is your job after all - "

"So you won't let _us_ be involved in the plan, but you have no problem sending in an unarmed woman?" Stephen argued, clearly put out that he'd be made to sit out of the excitement.

"All Jenny has to do is say the word and our soldiers will be with her in seconds," Lester replied smoothly. "She'll be quite safe."

"How can we trust you?" Cutter interjected for the first time, speaking directly to Jenny.

She raised her gaze from the floor to look at him, her expression emotionless, although he couldn't help but notice that flicker of hurt in her eyes. "And why wouldn't you?" she asked sternly.

"Well it was only this morning that you were suspended for being in a relationship with the enemy - "

"If you think I'm going to let your ego get in the way of this operation Nick, then you're very much mistaken," she stated, her eyes narrowed with contempt. "Why would I have come back with this information in the first place if I was planning on turning on you all?"

"I don't know," Cutter replied through gritted teeth. "Maybe that's what your boyfriend told you to do - "

"Enough," Lester interrupted sharply. "This is going to be difficult enough to pull off without you two sniping at each other all the time - "

Lester fell silent as Jenny's ringtone began singing onto the tense atmosphere. She fished out her mobile immediately and studied the screen for a split second. "It's him," she said grimly, glancing round at Lester.

"Answer it," he urged immediately. "Put it on loudspeaker and make sure you act completely normal. He mustn't suspect anything."

With a fleeting glance at Cutter, she pressed the answer button twice so that the conversation would be heard by all of them.

"Hello?" she said meekly as she held the mouthpiece close to her mouth.

"Afternoon beautiful," Wilder's gruff voice issued into the room. Just the sound of him made the hairs on Cutter's arm prickle. "Are you feeling better?"

"A little," she replied, although her voice was nervous and jittery and she clearly knew it. She closed her eyes to compose herself for a second as she ran her fingers through her hair. "How are you?" she continued eventually in a much steadier voice.

"Not too bad," Wilder said conversationally. "I was just phoning to let you know that I'm working late tonight. So I'll be at yours around seven-ish?"

"That sounds fine," she stated, her eyes determinedly not flickering towards Cutter again.

"Good." Wilder seemed to pause for a moment before speaking again. "You sure you're okay? You seem a little quiet."

"I'm fine," Jenny replied hurriedly, a clear note of panic in her voice. "I'm just in my car, that's all. I've got you on loudspeaker."

"Why, where are you going?" he demanded immediately, the possessiveness evident in his tone.

"Shopping," Jenny lied, forcing herself to sound a little brighter. "I thought I could do with a bit of retail therapy."

Wilder chuckled slightly. "Okay. Buy something sexy for tonight then, and I might be persuaded to take you to dinner."

Cutter looked away, feeling the jealousy writhe in his midriff as though it was a living thing.

"Oh I'll do that," Jenny replied with a nervous laugh. "See you tonight."

"Bye."

"Bye." Jenny hung up the phone and looked back at Lester, a faint pinkish tinge only just visible on her pale cheeks.

Lester leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "You make sure that you behave exactly as you have been doing around him, otherwise he'll be sure to suspect something."

Jenny nodded solemnly.

"As soon as you've persuaded him to take you to the creature enclosure, you'll get yourself here first and get your wire fitted. When you've got it on, you make sure he doesn't touch you. If he feels it there - "

"I know," she interrupted quietly.

"I'm sorry," Cutter chimed in sarcastically, his voice trembling with an undertone of fury as he got to his feet. "But am I the only person who thinks that this plan is a complete joke?"

"Nick - " Jenny began, but he cut her off.

"I don't know whether you're reckless, or just plain suicidal," he snapped, rounding on her. "But how the_ hell _are you planning to make it out alive from a warehouse full of creatures and enemy bullets?"

"I can do it!" she argued, sounding deeply offended by the insinuation that she was incapable.

"How?" he challenged her. "Learnt some new tricks on vanishing since you've been involved with a soldier have you?"

Jenny narrowed her eyes. "You're really beginning to sound like a broken record Nick," she said in a haughty tone. "Maybe you should ask yourself whether I would have even got 'involved' with him in the first place if you hadn't pushed me away - "

"So this is all _my_ fault?" Cutter exclaimed in complete incredulity.

Jenny opened her mouth angrily to bite back, but Lester got to his feet, slamming his file down on the desk with a resounding bang. "ENOUGH!" he barked, his nostrils flaring angrily. "This is possibly the most important thing we'll ever do here, and I can't have you all waging a war amongst yourselves as well!" he shouted, his expression livid. "Now I don't know what's gone on between the pair of you, and quite frankly I don't care. But you'll find away to get along until this is all over. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

Cutter and Jenny glared at each other for a moment, both breathing hard with the heat of the argument.

"I'm waiting," Lester pushed coldly, looking between them both. "Is that clear?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and folded her arms tightly. "Yes," they both answered in unison.

"Excellent," he stated curtly as he seated himself back down. "Now get out of my sight, all three of you. And what we've discussed in this room _stays_ in this room until I say otherwise."


	54. Where did it all go wrong?

**So sorry for my lack of updates, but as usual, I barely have time to think anymore let alone write :/ **

**This is a short (and regrettably hurried) chapter just to show that I've not lost interest in the story, and I shall have another significantly longer one up at some point today.**

**Enjoy x **

* * *

Chapter 54

The sound of the front door slamming rang resonant throughout the house, making Jenny start. She composed herself almost immediately, and hurriedly smoothed her hands over her black silk dress. It was probably more revealing than even she would normally wear, but if she was going to persuade Wilder to show her the new creature facility any time in the near future, she knew a major seduction would be in order. The thought made her shudder inwardly, but again she collected herself. Now wasn't the time to weaken, and if she acted unusual around him, it wouldn't be long before suspicions started to mount. And she couldn't let that happen. So dutifully, Jenny turned away from the mirror and slowly strutted into the hall, making a mental note to stop leaving the spare key in the plant pot in the future – if things should go wrong, the last thing she wanted was for Wilder to be able to waltz into her home to exact his revenge when the mood took him.

He was standing there expectantly, his posture as stiff as usual and his eyes the same cool grey as they fell on her.

Ignoring her tightly clenched stomach, Jenny leant against the doorframe, gesturing down at herself. "Is this sexy enough?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in mock innocence.

He looked her up and down deliberately, letting out a slow exhale as his eyes travelled back up to her face. "It's a start," he stated with a smirk.

She smiled sweetly and stepped forward, reaching out to tug on his tie. "You don't look too bad yourself," she said playfully as she wound the tie in her fingers, bringing him closer to her. She had to admit – he could really carry off a suit.

"Well if you will insist on dragging me to all these poncy restaurants, I have to look the part don't I?" he pointed out as his hands slid around her waist.

And he certainly did at that.

Still, it would take more than looking good in a suit for him to weasel his way back into Jenny's good graces. He'd put an end to any fond feelings she'd had for him as soon as he'd threatened to hurt her friends. Jenny was a lot of things, and fiercely protective over people she cared about was certainly one of them. In fact, as she pressed herself against him and allowed him to kiss her, she found herself fighting the urge to gag. This man was a manipulative, lying, two-face, untrustworthy _bastard_ – and what was worse, she'd allowed herself to be taken in by him. The thought that someone had actually fell for her for reasons other than her social standing or her striking resemblance to another woman had felt too good to turn away, and it had been _nice_ to step out of her old life and live this totally bizarre fantasy with someone different. And having a tough and unyielding solider boyfriend had lulled her in to a false sense of security. In the past, Jenny had always thought of herself as a feminist – not the hardcore burn-your-bra sort of feminist of course, but a feminist all the same. Her mother had always taught her that men were like cutlery – they're to be used when needed, and then stored away until they were useful again, and she had embraced that notion wholeheartedly, believing that having a long-term relationship would just slow her career down and burden her with the sort of idle couple lifestyle that she had considered mundane and ultimately pointless. When she had met Mark however, she allowed herself to think that he was the exact sort of man that could slot in with her own ideal. He was handsome, sophisticated, and came from a ridiculously wealth family. It was probably stupidity on her part, but Jenny found herself slackening her rule about being independent with the simple resolve that she and Mark were meant to be. He was the perfect husband-material, on paper at least . . .

Then the ARC had happened. And Cutter.

And then everything had collapsed into one great mess.

Wilder had came onto the scene with his dangerous air of mystery and those steely grey eyes, promising her the world and more – and she hated to admit it – but he had had her completely drawn in. His possessiveness, his temper, his violence – it had all been part of the attraction. After all that she had been through with Mark and Nick, and with the anomaly operation as a whole . . . being in a self-destructive relationship had been exactly what she had wanted. At the time she had thought that she had been thinking clearly, but now she saw that she had been completely brainwashed; willing to go along with Wilder's aggressive nature to punish herself for what happened to Mark, as well as trying to hurt Nick for the part she had wrongly believed he had played in her fiancé's death.

But what really got to her about the whole thing was not the fact that she had allowed her grief and guilt about Mark be used as manipulation against her . . . it was not that she had ignored all her common sense and gut instincts to embark on a dangerous relationship . . . no, what really _really _irked her was that Nick had been right. About Wilder's agenda . . . about her head being all over the place . . . he had been spot on about everything. And she _hated _it. But at least Nick had had the good grace not to gloat about it. In fact now she thought about it, he'd remained pretty much mute throughout the whole of Lester's meeting. Fleetingly, Jenny found herself wondering what Cutter actually thought about her now. Was he still angry about her and Wilder? Was he still hurt by everything that had happened between them? Did he hate her for it all? And most importantly – was there any part of him that could possibly forgive her? After the way she'd behaved, she'd be lucky if they could even work together after all this was over, let alone start up anything else.

But things were different now, she thought to herself as she broke away from Wilder's embrace with her best fake smile. _She_ was different. It might have taken a particularly nasty proposal from Wilder to jolt her back to her senses, but Jenny Lewis was back. She was going to bring this man _and_ Christine Johnson down.

And she was going to do it in heels.


	55. Calm before the storm

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews :) hope you enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter 55

Cutter leaned against the wall of Lester's office, his arms crossed in a stubbornly solemn silence as he watch Connor fit a wire and tracer under Jenny's top. The boy kept apologising over and over again to her as he did so, and she eventually rolled her eyes and snapped, "Connor, for goodness sake it's fine!"

"I'll just try and pretend you're not a woman," Connor said in a matter-of-fact voice. Jenny gave him a funny look and he hurried to explain himself. "Not that that's true of course – I mean you're _clearly_ a woman." By the mortified look on his face, he must have realised that didn't sound much better either. "Not that I'm enjoying this. Not that you're not nice to touch, of course. I mean any guy would want to, but - "

"Connor," Jenny interrupted him, clearly taking pity on his nervous rambling. "Just get on with it, okay?" she said, her voice sounding half amused.

He did as he was told, but his cheeks burned redder and redder as he worked.

"Try and steer Wilder into talking about Christine Johnson's plans for the ARC again," Lester said to Jenny, clearly choosing to ignore the previous conversation in favour of more pressing matters. "We'll need some hard evidence to show the Minister when this is all over."

Jenny nodded but remained silent, her gaze set determinedly on the adjacent wall, looking as dignified as she could do with someone fiddled around under her blouse. Stephen was busy pouring over the plans they had acquired on the warehouse, and Abby watched with a worried frown on her face.

"We'll wait for you to give the signal before going in," Lester continued as he paced around the room, his hands held stiffly behind his back. "What's the word?"

"Light," Jenny replied quietly.

"And again?"

"Light," Jenny repeated, her voice a little louder and stronger.

"Good," Lester nodded, sounding satisfied. "As soon as we hear that, the soldiers will storm the building. You are to hide until one of them get you, is that clear?"

"Yes," she replied impatiently, grimacing as Connor tugged at the wire under her top. "God your hands are cold," she added to him.

"Sorry," Connor mumbled again, giving her an apologetic look. "All the women in my family and me suffer from poor circulation - "

"And whilst I'm sure we all find your bodily functions fascinating Connor, can we possibly talk about it another time?" Lester snapped.

Connor fell silent immediately.

"Thank you," Lester said curtly, before addressing Jenny again. "The soldiers will know where you are because of the tracer," Lester informed her unnecessarily – sometimes Cutter thought that Lester just talked because he liked the sound of his own voice. "They'll be able to find you wherever you are, so don't go getting any stupid ideas about trying to escape alone into your head okay?"

"Whatever you say James," Jenny replied in a bored voice.

"Just let the tracer do all the work. And speaking of which," Lester added to Connor sharply, "are you almost finished? I know it's a rarity that you get to manhandle a pretty woman, but we are on a tight schedule here."

Connor broke away from Jenny immediately, his face beetroot. "I'm all done," he mumbled.

"Delightful," Lester said sarcastically.

"Thanks Connor," Jenny said in a quiet but kind voice as adjusted her blouse back in place.

"Come and have a look at this," Stephen said in a tense voice, beckoning them all over to the desk were three floor plans were spread out haphazardly. Everyone shuffled over him, except Cutter who had a good enough view from his chosen station. "This room," Stephen continued, touching his finger to the paper. "It seems to be the biggest. Chances are that's where they'll be keeping the creatures."

"And the nearest power source?" Jenny asked, her dark eyes studying the plans.

"That'd be here," Stephen answered, jabbing his finger at a different part of the paper. "It's on the floor below the enclosure."

"Well that's not too far," Abby chimed in hopefully.

"No, the basement of this place is like a maze," Stephen corrected her solemnly. "The underground bunker stretches under the whole place."

"I'll find it," Jenny said, the certainty in her voice almost reassuring.

"Well if you give me a couple of hours, I could try and map out a route for you?" Stephen suggested.

"I haven't got a couple of hours," Jenny sighed, running her hand through her hair and looking thoroughly stressed. "I'm getting picked up from mine at three."

"Well you'd better get started then," Lester interrupted sternly.

* * *

The rest of the team had wondered off, but Cutter stood stark still in the same position he had been in since the meeting had started. Lester sat back down at his desk, and seemed determined to ignore Cutter for as long as possible. When it eventually became clear that he had no intention of leaving, Lester sighed deeply.

"Can I help you with something Cutter, or are you just practising musical statues?"

"I hope you know that you're no better than Wilder is," Cutter said in a low voice.

"You know, I'm a bit too busy to try and work out your cryptic jibes," Lester said in a humourless voice. "If you're going to insult me, at least stop talking in riddles."

"He tried to use Jenny to get access to the ARC, and you're using her as a tool to bring Christine Johnson down," Cutter explained, feeling the anger writhe in his stomach. "Like two peas in a pod."

"Are you implying that I don't care what happens to her?"

"Do you?"

"Of course I do," Lester snapped impatiently. "She's my colleague. She's the most reliable one out of the lot of you, and if given the choice, I'd fire all you hot-head mavericks and replace you with several more like her."

"Then why are putting her in danger?" Cutter demanded in disbelief.

"Because no individual's life is more important than the protection of the public," Lester stated, his hardened eyes unable to meet Cutter's. "Christine has an army of creatures in that warehouse, and who knows what she's planning on doing with them in the long term. She's always been a highly ambitious woman with little regard for anyone in her way. She needs to be stopped. And Jenny's the only one who can do it."

"So what you're saying is that she's a sacrifice you can afford to make?" Cutter said, the volume of his voice rising uncontrollably with his fury.

"Oh let's not get dramatic," Lester sighed, waving away Cutter's insinuation with his hand. "I'm not going to let anything happen to her. She might have messed up the past few months due to personal issues, but she's still one of us. And no matter what you think of me Cutter, I do look after my own. Maybe one day you'll appreciate the number of times I've stopped the Minister from replacing you all with government scientists - "

"Bottom line," Cutter interjected, ensuring that his voice was hard and cold. "If anything happens to her, I'll make sure that you pay. Do you understand?"

"That you're threatening me? I wouldn't have expected any more from you," he replied in a light conversational manner. "But have you ever thought that maybe you're taking this all out on me because it's easier than talking to_ her_ about it?"

Cutter didn't have to ask who 'her' was, although the suggestion took him aback slightly. "What are you? A shrink now?"

"God no – their pay is abysmal," Lester said, sounding completely serious. "Now if you wouldn't mind Cutter, there is the tiny matter of having soldiers to organise. Leave me in peace."

* * *

Jenny shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the wire that looped under her bra so that it sat in a more snug position. They were in her office, and she was watching as Stephen scribbled down suggested routes that she could take to reach the power supply in the warehouse, although every now and then he scowled in frustration and scribbled out a word or two.

"Any luck?" she asked with apprehension.

"I don't know," he sighed, frowning down at the blue prints. "There are so many passages and blockades down there, and it's hard to find a direct route."

Jenny sighed herself and glanced down at her watch. It was nearly half one, and she was rapidly running out of time. It had been surprisingly easy to persuade Wilder to agree to show her where the creatures were. All she'd had to do was convey a girly fascination she had with seeing them again, and heavily hinting that if she was going to be part of his plan, she wanted to be included in the whole thing.

"_I've chosen you over all of my friends," she said, blinking innocently. "I've shown you that I want to be with you. I need to know that you feel the same way, or I can't go through with it."_

"_I do feel the same way," he answered gruffly._

"_Then show me that you trust me," she pressed, running her hand up his chest slowly. "Show me that you're not just using me to get the ARC."_

"_Of course I'm not - " _

"_Then let me be a part of it all," she whispered, resting her head on his so that she was speaking softly in his ear. "Let me see the creatures again."_

_He sighed deeply and pulled away from her, cupping her cheek in his hand. He studied her eyes for a long while as though trying to detect any untruthfulness in them. At long last, he ran his hand back through her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "Alright," he said. _

He had told her the vague location of the warehouse and promised to take her the following day, giving the team enough time to get her fitted up with a wire and tracer, as well as locate structural maps to the warehouse.

A sharp knock on the door brought her out of her thoughts abruptly, and when she looked round, Cutter was poking his head into the room. "Can I have a word?" he said to Jenny.

Masking her surprise, she nodded immediately and followed his out into the corridor.

"Let me guess," she said as he stopped and leant against the wall. "You're going to tell me not to go?"

"No," he replied shortly. "I'm not."

"Right," she replied, not knowing what else to say. Was he not bothered what happened to her then?

"I know you better than to try and stop you," he added, his blue eyes a lot warmer than they had been towards her recently. "You're almost as stubborn as me."

She chuckled slightly. "Well I wouldn't quite go that far. What did you want to talk about then?"

"I don't want to talk," he corrected her as he reached into the band of his jeans. He pulled out what was possibly the tiniest gun she had ever seen and handed it over to her.

"What's this?" she asked as she took it.

"It's a gun," he answered simply.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I know _what_ it is. What I mean is why are you giving it to me? Lester said I'm to take no weapons - "

"Well Lester's an idiot," he replied shortly.

She smiled again as she looked from the minuscule gun to his face. "It's too risky," she explained gently. "I might get searched."

"It's small enough to be concealed I reckon," he said with a shrug. "I got it from the weapon room. I don't like the thought of you going in there unarmed."

Jenny smiled as she pocketed the gun. "Thanks," she said, feeling happiness flow through her like a warm glow. _He does care._

"No problem," he replied, matching her smile with a small one of his own. "Just . . . be careful okay?"

"I will," she assured him.

Silence floated between them for a few moments as they both looked at each other. Eventually, Cutter cleared his throat.

"Look," he began, running his hand through his unruly hair. "I just wanted to say - "

"Hey Jenny," Stephen's voice cut him off as he leaned through the door. "Come and have a look at this," he added, beckoning her as he withdrew back into the room.

Fighting the urge she had to tell Stephen to piss off, Jenny turned back to Cutter with an apologetic look. "I – I should - " she began, gesturing at her office.

"Aye, go," Cutter nodded. "I'll see you later."


	56. The unknown

Chapter 56

Jenny fiddled with her nails anxiously the entire car journey, her gaze fixed unblinkingly out of the window as she blindly watched the rain drops trickle down the length of the glass. Wilder's car was a large and spacious SUV, but today it felt small and stifling; as though the sides were closing in on her as they drew closer and closer to the warehouse.

"You alright?" Wilder asked out of the blue, giving her a sideward glance. "You're awfully quiet. Usually, I can't shut you up."

Jenny turned to him and gave him what she hoped was a genuine-looking smile. "I'm fine. Just a little nervous." Which was true really. Jenny had always found it easier to lie when telling some semblance of the truth.

"Nervous about what?"

"Oh I don't know," Jenny replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Betraying my friends . . . double-crossing my boss . . ."

"We've talked about this," he said in a calm, collected voice. "It's for the best."

"I know," she lied, allowing her gaze to travel back out of the window. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Just try not to think about that part," he said casually. "Just think about what we'll do when it's all over."

"And what's that?"

"Whatever you want," he replied, glancing round at her. "I might even make an honest woman out of you."

Jenny snapped her head round at him, feeling her eyes widen in shock. "Excuse me?" she gaped.

"I said 'might'," he smiled, turning his grey eyes back on the road. "It'd take a lot for me to walk down that plank again. But I don't know – as soon as I leave this life behind, I just want to live in peace. Getting married . . . having a couple of kids . . . it might be on the cards."

Jenny looked away again, immediately squashing the guilt that threatened to bubble up in the pit of her stomach. _He's a liar. He doesn't mean any of this. He's just trying to trick you . . ._

"It'd take a lot more than marriage to make an honest woman out of me," she stated, opting for a flippant remark over anything more substantial.

Wilder chuckled. "Well you might be right there."

They rounded the corner of some country-like lane and pulled up outside the biggest warehouse that Jenny had ever seen in her life. It was clear even by the exterior view that there were several floors, and there were over a dozen out-buildings dotted around the place, isolating the place.

"Impressive isn't it?" Wilder said, clearly reading her awe-struck expression.

"That's one way of putting it," she said as she fumbled to undo her seatbelt. "Where are the other soldiers?"

"Inside," he replied as left the car. He rounded the vehicle and attentively opened her door for her. "It'd attract too much attention is there were soldiers patrolling the perimeter all the time."

"Smart," Jenny remarked as she stepped out of the car, sincerely hoping that her wire was picking up everything that was being said. "So there's no one guarding the outside?"

"We're well protected if that's what you're worried about," he said as he rested his hand on the small of her back to lead her towards the entrance. "We've got surveillance cameras all over here."

Of course, that wasn't quite what she'd meant when she'd asked about security, although she hoped that James had picked up on the comment about the cameras. It was imperative that the ARC soldiers grouped outside the grounds before storming the building then, or else they'd be spotted before they'd even broken a sweat.

As Wilder lead her into the warehouse, Jenny noted that the interior of the building looked just as dank and desolate as the outside. The ceiling was cracked and peeling, and the walls were damp, causing the air around them to be thick and musty. Wrinkling her nose at the rank smell, Jenny allowed Wilder to pull her onwards, their shoes padding softly on the dust covered floor. This clearly wasn't the main entrance, Jenny concluded as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Despite the fact that there were clear footsteps and scuff marks in the dust, the corridor still had a disused feeling about it. But that was good, she supposed. At least the ARC soldiers had a better chance of getting in unseen if they used this back entrance.

As they approached a large set of double doors, a soldier stepped out of the shadows, a large sniper rifle cradled in his muscular arms. He stood right in front of Jenny, blocking her path and giving her a cold, stern look.

"She's with me," Wilder said in a deep commanding voice as he snaked his arm around Jenny's waist.

The soldier seemed to cower under Wilder's glare and he retreated instantly. Feeling strangely powerful, Jenny gave him a dirty look as she passed through the door that Wilder held open for her. The red glare was the first thing that Jenny became aware of, but she was ready for it this time, and she screwed up her eyes until they adjusted to the strong light. When her retinas had stopped ringing, she looked around. The room was nearly five times the size of the previous warehouse, and housed at least twice the number of creatures. As her gaze travelled around, she spotted the wolf-like creature as it circled its electronic cage restlessly. As she watched, its long furry tail seemed to brush against one of the red beams enclosing it, and it yelped, jolting away from it with a whimper. She tore her eyes away from the pitiful sight and looked around at the other countless creatures that she didn't recognise. She couldn't even begin to guess their names, let alone the eras that they rightfully belonged in.

"We've added a few more to our collection since you last saw them," Wilder stated, admiring the creatures fondly.

"You talk about them like they're toys," Jenny said, forgetting herself for a moment. "They're living things for goodness sake."

"And you talk about them like you care for them," he retorted, giving her a curious look.

Jenny bit her tongue, scolding herself for speaking out of turn. She'd clearly been hanging around with sentimental scientists for too long. Why should she care what happened to these creatures? They were nothing to her. As long as they were destroyed quickly before they could be spotted by the public, then she'd be happy. Leave the animal rights activism to Nick.

"I don't," she informed him, turning away to examine two giant centipedes that were circling their enclosure next to her. "It's just that I think you're forgetting that they're dangerous."

He let out a bark-like laugh. "Believe me - I won't be forgetting how dangerous they are. A few of them nearly killed me when I captured them. But when they're properly chipped, they'll be under our control. They'll only be dangerous to the people we choose them to be."

"And the Future Predators? Where are they?"

"We give them free reign of the place. They need a lot of exercise," he replied casually, although when he saw the horrified look on her face, he hurriedly added, "They're already chipped of course. They can't hurt anyone - "

"Captain!" one of the patrolling soldiers shouted over from across the gigantic room.

Wilder and Jenny looked around to see a small group of them gesturing frantically for Wilder's assistance as they struggled into the room with what looked like a velociraptor trapped in a giant net. The creature thrashed and roared as it was forced in, and it took six soldiers to keep it restrained.

"Idiots!" Wilder bellowed over at them, his nostrils flaring angrily. "You're supposed to sedate them!"

"It wore off boss!"

Wilder growled furiously. "Stay there," he commended to Jenny before he stomped off towards the fray.

Jenny folded her arms and watched him go, her heart doing some sort of tap dance in her chest. She hadn't expected an opportunity to sneak away to crop up so soon, and now that the moment was upon her, she felt herself freeze.

_Cutter was right, _she thought as her stomach flooded with fear. _I can't do this . . ._

_Yes you can, _another stronger voice chimed in confidently. _Go on, you can do it. Go now._

Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she turned her heel and hurried back to the doorway. With a fleeting glance behind her to make sure Wilder was still occupied, she slipped out through the door as quietly as she could.

"What are you doing?" a cool voice spoke out of the darkness.

Jenny span round, suppressing a yelp of surprise as she found herself face-to-face with the door soldier, his eyes full of the same suspicion as he looked down at her.

"I came to find you," she lied, her PR skills making it relatively easy for her to make something up under pressure. "In case you haven't noticed, your colleagues need your help in there."

The man eyed her doubtfully before he opened the door a crack, enough to allow him to peer inside. Either he must have seen the commotion going on in there, or else heard the panicked shouts that issued out, but either way he turned back to her with an alarmed expression. "Stay here," he ordered firmly, before he disappeared off into the holding room.

"Oh I'll do that," Jenny muttered sarcastically as the door fell shut behind him.

She waited a few seconds before she turned and made her way down the darkened corridor to her right, fishing out Stephen's hand-drawn map from one of her boots as she went. She fumbled to unfold the paper and squinted down at it, vaguely able to make out the lines he had scrawled, indicating which route she was to follow to get to the basement. She continued on and took the second left as the map directed, trying not to think about the fact that she only had a few moments at most until Wilder realised she was missing. She eventually came to what looked like a dark coloured door, and she halted. Upon closer examination, she found that it wasn't actually a door, but instead a pitch black door-shaped opening from which a faint but foul smelling odour seemed to be coming from. Looking back down the corridor she had came from, she bit her lip, wishing beyond hope that she didn't have to go down there – the hairs on her arms were prickling at the mere thought of it. But there was nothing for it, she rapidly concluded. This was where the map had directed her to, and if she could say anything for Stephen, it was that he had an impeccable sense of direction. Besides that, if she lingered hesitantly in the corridor for much longer, she was going to be found, either by Wilder, or any one of the mindless sycophants he surrounded himself with. So, reluctantly and cautiously, she leaned forward, peering into the opening. At first, she could see nothing but darkness – like she was staring out from the edge of the world into an abyss. However, the more she stared, the more things started to take shape. In the blackness, she could make out the fuzzy outline of stairs, leading down to what looked like a vast and eternal nothingness.

It was the basement. It had to be.

Not ever wanting to do anything less in her life, Jenny took a deep breath to steady her erratic breathing, and slowly moved forward. The hand that was holding the make-shift map was trembling violently as she stepped onto the first stair. The temperature seemed to drop substantially, and she felt goosebumps erupt on her skin as she continued downwards as slowly as she dared.

Blackness seemed to envelop her like a loving friend as she descended further and further into the unknown.


	57. The siege

**Just wanted to say a massive thank you to all those who have reviewed: ****CakeyxClickx****, ****jojokidi****, ****Nathol99****, ****Stephanieella96****, ****sopheezmum****, ****Whatever-the-weather****, VioletHeartx, Kathryn Hart****, ****GPR****, ****NickyBecker****, ****AnnaCutter****, ****Ponytales**** and ****JustEllee****! The encouragement off you guys has been amazing, so thank you all so much :D I'm clearly getting all nostalgic seeing as this story is rapidly coming to a close, so I shall now stop rambling and start writing!**

**Enjoy x **

* * *

Chapter 57

Once Jenny reached the bottom of the stairs, the blackness was so intense that it seemed to press in on her as though it was solid mass. Shivering in the clammy coldness, she stooped down and pulled out her mini torch and gun from her boot – her trusty hiding place – and straightened up, pointing the torch beam in front of her. The basement was so dark that she could only see a little distance ahead, and her shadow on the damp walls looked monstrously large in the torch light.

Her breathing quickened as she moved forward, the gun poised in one hand, the torch and map in the other.

"I swear to God James, if you're listening to this, I want a pay rise," she whispered to the wire. "My salary isn't high enough for this."

She thought wearing a wire and the fact that her every move was being listened to would make her feel like she wasn't alone, but the basement was quiet as the grave. Then again, what had she been expecting – a reply? Some words of comfort whispered to her? No, she was on her own in this.

A sudden scuffling noise behind her made her spin around, aiming her gun and torch beam at something unseen as her breath caught somewhere in her throat. But it only turned out to be a rat, squeaking as it scuttled in between two pipes. Letting out a long sigh of relief, Jenny lowered the gun and turned back. She continued onwards, rounding a dark bend –

She froze again, feeling a bolt of complete and utter terror shoot through her. She could see the outline of something huge and ape-like in the shadows before her, and a horrible clicking noise broke through the painful quietness. A red light flashed periodically from something on the creatures head, although she didn't remotely care about the reason for it. She was paralysed with fear, and her heart beat so fast that it hurt. She half considered shouting for help into the wire, but before she could act upon that thought, the creature began to edge towards her, tilting its grotesque head to the side curiously as that bone-chilling clicking sound it was making grew louder and louder.

Jenny's finger was on the trigger of her tiny gun, ready to squeeze it and plant a bullet in the predators head, but the longer the creature studied her for, the more she began to think that – for some bizarre reason - it wasn't about to attack. It was interested in her of course, that much was clear, but she didn't get the sense that it was hunting her.

The standoff seemed to last an age, but eventually the creature backed off, its red light flashing on its head as it passed her, making its way back the way she had come. Jenny waited until the clicking sound had died away completely before she even dared to draw a breath. So that was what a heart attack felt like.

"A big pay rise," she repeated into the wire as she continued ahead.

* * *

Cutter paced restlessly in the operations van they had set up two streets away from the warehouse they'd traced Jenny to, barely listening to the soft worried chatter going on between the rest of the team, to consumed was he with his own panic to be bothered soothing anyone else. This plan was bloody suicide. Why had he let her go? He should have stopped her. If anything happened to her . . .

Lester was talking to one of the soldiers he'd summoned in a strict, commanding voice. "I don't care what the rest of them are doing," he said. "You're job – and you're only job – is to follow this tracker," he held out a palm-sized navigation system for the soldier to take, "and find her. Make sure you get her out unharmed, or I swear to anyone up there that I'll hold you personally responsible."

"Sir," the soldier nodded in acknowledgement.

Cutter supposed that he should feel thankful to Lester for showing such concern in getting Jenny back safely, but his anger at the man for putting her in this predicament in the first place was overruling any gratitude he might have had.

"Light!" Jenny's voice suddenly hissed, filling the van as it issued out of the speakers. "Light, light!"

"Go," Lester spoke into a walky-talky to the many waiting soldiers outside. "And you go and bring her back," he added to the soldier in front of him. "In one piece."

"Sir," the solder nodded again before taking his leave.

* * *

Wilder stiffened as all the light seemed to be sucked from the holding room. For a split second, he thought he'd gone completely blind, but his darting eyes landed on one of the minuscule windows at the very top of the walls, letting in a sliver of light from outside. As his pupils adjusted to the dim light, he noticed shapes moving all around him, and a sudden unfamiliar bolt of fear shot through him as he realised something.

The red lights of the electronic cages had disappeared.

"Back off!" he bellowed to his fellow soldiers as he raised his gun up. "Get out of the room!"

They all backed out as quickly as they could, stumbling ungracefully as they did so. The creatures either hadn't realised that they were no longer contained, or else were unsure about their new-found liberation. Either way, they didn't attack immediately, giving Wilder enough time to get his men out.

"JEN!" he shouted, panicked as his eyes searched the place, his eyes squinting in the dimness. "JENNY!"

One of the three soldiers that was barring the door shut turned around. "You talking 'bout that bird you were with earlier Cap'in?" he asked, panting as he talked. "She got out of the room earlier."

"What?" Wilder demanded, his stomach clenching.

"Yeah, she sent me in to 'elp you - "

Wilder slammed his fist against the wall, letting out a frustrated growl. "Split up," he ordered the men closest to him. "Find her."

"Captain," they all nodded.

But before they could so much as move a few feet, all hell seemed to break loose. For one wild moment, Wilder thought that the creatures had escaped from the holding room, but then he realised that the deafening sounds were gunshots . . . then screams and shouts filled the narrow corridor, and blinding torch beams jutted wildly around the walls.

"What the - " Wilder began, darting into an adjacent corridor to avoid the bullets that whirled passed him.

The sound of fighting ensued, telling Wilder that his men had began to fight back against whoever it was that was attacking the base, and he was about to go and aid them, but half a heart beat later, a figure crossed his path. One bullet to the head was all it took, and the strange soldier was motionless on the floor, and the device that he'd been clutching on to had fell from his hands and landed at Wilder's feet. He bent down to search the young man, and whilst rooting in his pockets, he pulled out an ID card.

The ARC. The _bloody_ ARC!

Seething, he threw the card away aggressively and instead reached for the dropped device. Straightening up and studying the screen, it soon became clear to him that it was a navigational system that happened to be leading him to a flashing dot in the basement.

It was that realization that made his stomach feel like a bucket of ice had been thrown in it. He squeezed his eyes shut and slapped his palm against the cold, clammy wall.

"Bitch," he exhaled to himself, his heart throbbing painfully.

The penny had dropped about why the power in the building had gone off; about why the ARC was invading; about why Jenny had disappeared . . .

She had been playing him all along.

Shame started to flow through his veins, and his disbelief was replaced by numbing anger. He could hear yells and pleas coming from the fighting corridor, but he no longer had a care for the trivial matter of beating back the ARC. A fire had been ignited in him, and he wanted blood – but slaying a couple of mindless ARC soldiers wasn't going to satisfy him.

He needed his revenge – his revenge on _her_.

Blood boiling, he slipped into the shadows and quietly crept towards the basement, the tracer held tightly in one hand, and his gun in the other.


	58. Stalked in the darkness

Chapter 58

Jenny crouched low and leaned her back against the ice cold wall, keeping her gun clutched in her shaking hand. She had pocketed her torch, not wanting the beam of light to draw unwanted attention from any of Wilder's soldiers who might be looking for her. She knew that the ARC soldiers would locate her using the trace she had on her, and so she didn't have to worry about them finding her. All she had to do was wait.

Leaning her head back on the moist wall, still breathing hard, she wondered what on earth was going on up there – had their soldiers been able to overthrow Johnson's men? Had they contained the creatures? Had the wire even worked? What if it'd broken and they hadn't even heard her signal . . .

Her thoughts came to a crashing halt as she sensed more than saw something moving in the darkness ahead of her. She jerked her head up immediately, alert, and slowly raised her gun at the unseen figure. She strained her eyes to try and make something out, but it turned out to be unnecessary. As soon as that nerve-racking clicking sound reached her ears, she knew exactly what it was that was stalking her. As the Predator stepped out of the shadows, her stomach seemed to disappear. The red light on its head was no longer flashing, she realised with a sickening jolt. It was no longer being controlled; she could tell that by the hunting canter it had adopted. Numbly, she stood up, leaning heavily on the wall for support. The creature didn't seem to like her moving, as it suddenly let out a harsher clicking noise and took a few predatory steps forward. Flattening herself against the wall and trying desperately to keep a cool head, Jenny steadied her gun and began firing wildly, aiming for the things head. But it was too fast, and the bullets went sailing past it as it scaled the walls like some sort of horrific spider. It moved so quickly that Jenny's eyes had trouble following it, and eventually the gun clicked in her hands, telling her that she had exhausted the bullets.

Hopelessly, she looked from the now useless gun up to the Predator that was dangling from a thick pipe on the ceiling ahead. It seemed to know that she was helpless as it took its time, not rushing as it made its way back down to the ground. Jenny half considered running, but she knew that she'd never get away. She wasn't fast enough to outrun the thing, and even trying was futile. So she let the gun fall from her hand, numbly waiting for the creature to stop playing with her and finish the job.

She didn't have to wait long.

Letting out a deafening click, it started forward towards her. Jenny squeezed her eyes shut and cowered against the wall, too petrified to even scream.

Then gunshots filled the stale air and she shrieked, flinging her arms up to shield her head. A massive thud sounded out, and when she brought herself to look around, she was shocked to see the corpse of the Predator practically at her feet. Panicked and confused, her eyes darted around, trying to see the person who had come to her rescue . . .

When she spotted him however, she half-wished that she was still facing the Future Predator. Wilder was walking towards her, barely visible in the darkness, a gun in one hand and what looked like a tracker in the other.

Jenny straightened up immediately, not wanting him to see her cowering like a child.

Wilder walked directly up to the power box, and with one swift motion, he pulled the lever and light blazed into the room. For the second time in as many minutes, Jenny's arm flew up to shield her face, although her eyes still burned with the intensity of the light. When she collected herself and lowered her arm, her heart palpitated as she saw that Wilder was just feet from her, his jaw set and his expression looking absolutely livid. They stood in silence for a few moments; Jenny doubting whether she'd even have the ability to speak again. The fact that her throat seemed to have constricted was bound to become an issue soon enough in any case.

Without so much as saying a word, Wilder suddenly jerked his hand forward and cleanly ripped her blouse open. She gasped as the buttons scattered all over the floor, her pulse racing with fear. He chuckled as he looked at the wire fitted on her heaving chest, although the laughter didn't reach those grey eyes that were practically radiating fury. He reached forward and wrenched the wire off her, the pain causing an involuntary yelp to escape from her lips. After looking at the device for a moment, he flung it down on the floor and stomped on it with his thick steel-capped boots.

"Oops," he sneered, his voice still chillingly calm.

* * *

The deafening sound of gunfire blazed out of the speakers in the van, and immediately, the team froze. Cutter felt like his stomach was being grabbed and twisted by invisible hands. It had been the sound that he'd been dreading hearing since they'd set up the operations in this van – if Jenny was using a gun to defend herself, she must been in deep trouble.

Everyone flew over to the speakers, straining their ears to try and hear past the gun shots to figure out what was going on.

But only one thing was discernible to Cutter's ear; Jenny's breaths were coming in sharp, shallow pants.

She was scared.

That was all he needed to know.

Without a word to the others, he turned his heel and marched over to the van doors, his heart beating somewhere in his throat.

"Cutter, don't even think about it!" Lester yelled suddenly, his voice cold and strict. Cutter ignored him and flung the doors open, stumbling ungracefully out of the van and into the cold sunshine. "Stop him!" Lester added to someone.

Immediately, two soldiers grabbed his jacket, holding him back roughly.

"Get off me!" Cutter yelled, struggling to throw their hands off. "_Get off!_"

"Cutter, I've told you, this is no time for one of your cock-eyed maverick plans!" Lester barked, stepping down from the van himself.

"Did you not hear what I just did?" he exclaimed, still trying to free himself from the soldier's vice-like grips.

"Cutter, this isn't helping anyone," Stephen interjected, putting a hand on Nick's shoulder in a soothing gesture. "I'll take him," he added to the soldiers, as though Cutter was a two-year-old that needed to be watched in case he stuck his finger in a plug socket.

Reluctantly it seemed, the soldiers released him, still glowering as they did so. Stephen tightened the grip on Cutter's shoulder and steered him until they were out of ear-shot from the others.

"What are you playing at?" Cutter demanded, rounding on him. "She's in danger in there - "

"I know she is," Stephen replied, his brow furrowed. "But let me go instead of you."

This threw Cutter for a second and he gave Stephen a very confused look. "What?"

"I drew the map for her – I know exactly where she is," Stephen pointed out rationally. "And I have a better chance of getting in there than you do. They're hardly going to be expecting me to run in are they?"

"No, I suppose not," Cutter conceded, frowning at him. "But - "

"I'll be fine," Stephen stated with a reassuring grin, clapping him on the back. "Cover me?"

"Don't I always?" Cutter replied.

They both turned back towards the warehouse and Cutter started towards it again. Just as he expected, the soldiers grabbed him, one of them so roughly that it almost winded him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stephen start to sprint towards the entrance, and a warm glow of satisfaction spread through him as he struggled with the soldiers.

"Stephen!" Lester yelled, his face reddening with anger. "Get back here this _instant_!"

* * *

Jenny closed her ripped blouse around herself and hugged it tight, not liking feeling more vulnerable than she already did.

"The soldier who was coming to find you sends his kind regards," Wilder said in an eerily calm voice. "He's a little indisposed at the moment. I thought I'd come and get you instead."

Jenny looked up at him, willing herself not to show him how scared she was.

"You killed him," she stated numbly. It wasn't a question.

Wilder raised his eyebrow at her, but remained silent. It told her all she needed to know.

Jenny bit her lip and looked away for a moment. It was getting to be a nasty habit – men dying for her.

"I just have one question I want to know," Wilder spoke eventually, forcing her to snap her gaze back to him. "How could you?"

"How could _I_?" she gaped, her paralysing fear giving way to the supremely more welcome feeling of anger. "You _used_ me. You told me you loved me - "

"I _do_ love you Jen," he interrupted sternly.

Jenny let out a humourless laugh. "You don't know what love is."

"You were useful to me, I'm not denying that," he said in a low voice. "But it doesn't mean I didn't mean it when I said I wanted to be with you."

"Well you make my skin crawl," she stated with as much venom as she could muster.

"You weren't saying that before," he pointed out with a leering smile. "In fact, you couldn't get enough - "

"I hated myself back then," she stated, giving him a dirty look. "I loathed myself for what happened to Mark, and I thought that being with you was the ideal self-punishment. That's it. It wasn't anything to do with you. Now, I'm disgusted in myself that I even let you near me. I wouldn't be with you if you paid me."

"But that's the thing isn't it?" he said brightly. "You _were_ with me because you were getting paid. By your boss."

"That was different - "

"No it wasn't," he cut her off. "You're a lying, betraying whore Jenny. And I'm going to make you pay."

Her pulse increased to exponential levels as she looked from the gun in his hand back up to his ruthless eyes. "Well let's get it over with then," she said, hating the way her voice shook as she spoke.

"Oh I'm not going to kill you," he said in a matter-of-fact voice as he rested his arm on the wall next to her, bringing his face significantly closer to hers. "I'm going to make you watch whilst I destroy each one of those colleagues that you love so much. I'm going to start with that Professor you're soft on."

"I'll either see you behind bars, or I will see you _dead_," she spat, feeling white-hot anger lick at her stomach.

"And I'm going to save that pretty blonde waif you hang round with until last," he continued, his breath tickling her cheek. "Abby is it? The things I could do to her . . . I could teach her some of the things I taught you – "

Disgusted by his words, Jenny slapped him across the jaw, and his head flew to the side. Her fury quickly disintegrated into apprehension as she realised that angering him wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do. In fact, it was quite possibly the stupidest thing she'd done since she'd agreed to go undercover with him in the first place. Casually, Wilder lifted his hand up to his cheek and rubbed it, chuckling as though he found the whole situation funny.

But as quick as a flash, he had darted at her, his hand closing around her throat as he shoved her hard against the wall. Jenny yelped and choked, trying desperately to pry his fingers from around her. His expression was pulled into a snarl and his eyes were like dark tunnels; empty, endless and soulless. She clawed at his hands with her fingernails, but nothing she did seem to slacken his grip. She could feel her windpipe crushing painfully, and she gasped, trying with all her might to draw a breath . . . just one . . .

But nothing.

Her vision started swim and her brain felt like it was made of cotton wool, but she kept trying to fight, despite the fact that she felt her knees buckling from under her.

Then all of a sudden Wilder let out a grunt and his grip on her throat failed. Coughing, Jenny sunk to the floor, clutching her neck and fighting to draw air into her lungs, her head feeling like it had just floated away from the rest of her body. When she was finally able to look up, she saw that Stephen and Wilder were engaged in a brutal fist fight, and by the looks of them, they were both already bloodied.

"Jenny, run!" Stephen shouted at her, his fist raised in front of him. "Go - " he added, but he was cut off as Wilder knocked him backwards onto the floor with a well-aimed punch.

To Jenny's horror, Wilder crouched over him and began punching every inch of Stephen he could reach. Panicking, she scrambled to her feet and launched forward onto Wilder's back, seizing him around the neck and pulling backwards.

"GET OFF!" she screamed, aware that Stephen had lost consciousness even though the punches still rained down hard on him. "GET _OFF_ HIM!"

Wilder shoved her away with a jolt of his arm and she fell in a heap on the floor. He straightened up with ease and calmly pulled another gun out as she propped herself up on her elbows, breathing hard and fast.

"Shall we make him the first one to go?" he sneered, panting slightly as he pointed the gun at Stephen's unconscious form.

"Joe – don't - " she begged, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. "_Please_. "

With a cruel smile, he turned back to Stephen, and slowly and deliberately took the safety off the gun.

"NO!" Jenny shouted as she forced herself back on her feet.

She launched at him again, and grabbed for the gun, pulling it away from Stephen. Wilder seemed surprised by her sudden advance, but he fought back hard and she grappled with him with all the strength she possessed. They struggled for what seemed like an age before the gun went off. The bullet cracked like a whip through the musty air before it met with flesh, blasting through it as though it was paper.

The basement was filled with a loud piercing scream.


	59. The beckoning

Chapter 59

Jenny fell to the ground hard, barely even aware of the fact that she was still screaming. The agony was so intense that she momentarily forgot where she was. All she knew was that she was in more pain than she had ever been in her life. She reached her trembling hand down to her stomach and felt a sticky warmness there, and when she drew it back up to her eyes, she gasped when she saw that her fingers were stained deep red with blood.

Wilder was standing over her, running his hands back over his hair. "I'm sorry," he stammered, his eyes wild and panicked. "I – I didn't mean to . . ."

He bent down and reached over to her, but she shrunk back. "G-get a-away!" she exclaimed, her teeth chattering so much that she could barely get her words out.

He straightened back up, his expression helpless. "I – I didn't mean to. I - it was your fault. You – you grabbed the gun . . ."

Her mind completely blank, Jenny reached her hand back down to the side of her stomach to press on her wound, trying to remember something she'd heard in a first aid course years ago about keeping the pressure on the bleeding area. But as soon as she touched it, the pain re-doubled. Screaming in agony, she squeezed her eyes shut.

This wasn't happening. It wasn't real . . .

"I'm – I'm sorry . . ." Wilder trailed off, backing away as though he was scared of her. "I'm so sorry."

And with that, he turned and practically ran away, leaving Jenny quite alone with an unconscious Stephen. She tried to hoist herself into a sitting position, but her hands slipped on the wetness of the floor. It was a while before she realised that that wetness was her own blood, which seemed to have formed a small pool around her. Could a person bleed this much? Defeated, she lowered herself back down, shaking from head to toe.

She used the last of the strength she had left to try and form some words. "St – Stephen," she murmured, not loud enough to be heard by anyone, let alone to rouse someone unconscious. "St . . ." she trailed off as her vision shifted in and out of focus. It felt as though someone had put a plastic bag over her head; her eyesight was blurry, and everything sounded muffled and distorted. "Stephe . . ." she couldn't even get his name out.

Squeezing her eyes shut again, she gave into the pull of tiredness and let her body relax. The excruciating pain had become more of a dull, persistent aching, and no longer seemed to bother her. As she lay there and bled more and more, she could feel herself start to slip away. It was a bizarre feeling – as though this world didn't exist, and that she was being drawn into somewhere else that was supremely real.

* * *

One of the soldiers still held him tight by the arm, although Cutter ignored him, his focus completely rapt on the street corner. But the more he willed Stephen to round it with Jenny, the more the empty minutes wore on, bringing no sign of either of them. Something was wrong – Cutter knew it. They'd been gone too long. Lester had received reports from some of the soldiers that most of Johnson's men had been captured and that the creatures were being contained, but none of them had any word on Jenny's whereabouts, nor Stephens for that matter.

From the van entrance, Cutter vaguely registered Lester speaking in a hushed voice to another soldier whilst Abby and Connor listening in, identical worried looks on both of their faces.

"What?" Cutter shouted over, feeling his apprehension mount. "What's happened?"

Lester glanced round but decided to ignore him, continuing his discussion as though Cutter hadn't even spoken. It was Abby who walked over, her arms hugged around her stomach as though it was a subconscious way to comfort herself.

"We've lost the signal from Jenny's wire," she informed him, her expression pained. "And from her tracer - "

She looked on the verge of saying something else, but she seemed to stop herself. Not that Cutter needed the gravity of the situation explained to him. If Jenny's wire wasn't transmitting anymore, it could only mean one of two things. Either it had malfunctioned, which was unlikely, or . . .

Refusing to even let the second option flutter into his mind, Cutter turned, and with one swift motion, he sunk his fist in the side of the distracted soldier's jaw. The man staggered and slacked his grip on Cutter's jacket just enough for him to pull himself out of the soldier's clutches.

He took off at high speed towards the warehouse, ignoring all the voices calling him back.

* * *

Random thoughts and memories had started running through Jenny's mind. Silly things really. Her mother physically forcing her into a frilly party dress when she was twelve . . . her father telling off her and her brother for fighting when he was trying to read the paper . . . her friends giggling with her as they managed to get into their first nightclub . . . her walking up and shaking hands with the honouree at her graduation . . . the first time she and Mark went to view their house . . . and Cutter . . .

His face suddenly shone resonant in her mind, and she forced her tired eyes open. She wanted to see him. She wanted him with her. Pulling on any strength she had from some place deep down inside her, she forced herself to move. It took her a few attempts to hoist herself up; her hands still threatening to slip in the warm puddle of blood surrounding her. She practically crawled over to where Stephen lay, the pain nearly making her pass out again. When she reached him, she shoved him as hard as she could the strength for.

"St – Stephen . . ." she said, her voice coming out faint and scratched as she shook him again. "_Stephen_."

She felt him stir slightly, but it was costing her too much energy to stay upright, and she collapsed again just as he came round.

"What . . . ?" he murmured as his eyes fluttered open. His hand immediately went to his head and he inhaled sharply, clearly in pain. "What - "

He turned to face her, although it seemed to take him a few seconds to actually register what he was seeing. But suddenly, he gasped and scrambled to sit up, his bloodied face full of concern.

"What happened?" he demanded, his eyes wide as they fell on her gunshot wound.

"W-wilder," she explained, aware that she was shaking violently again. Even staying conscious was an effort for her.

Immediately, Stephen stripped off his jacket. Gently, he moved her ripped, blood-soaked blouse aside and pressed it onto her stomach. Jenny gritted her teeth and screwed up her face as she felt a twinge, although the area was now more numb than painful.

"I've got to get you out of here," he said, his voice low and grave.

"N-no, I ca-can't move," she protested meekly, struggling to form her words properly. "I – it hurts too m-much . . ."

"Look, we haven't got a choice," he said, his voice forced-calm, although the alarm in his tone was evident. "Come on, I'll carry you."

He made to put his arms around her shoulders to hoist her up, but she weakly brushed him away. "_No_," she said as firmly as she could. "G-go and get N-nick." It was imperative that he knew how important it was that she saw Cutter again.

Stephen gave her a very funny look. "Jenny, you need an ambulance. I haven't got time to get Cutter - "

"_P-please_," she begged, a sob breaking her word. Why didn't he understand that she all she needed him to do was get Nick?

Stephen hesitated, his handsome face looking torn. "I can't leave you," he said eventually, shaking his head.

"D-do it . . ." she tried to say, but she suddenly felt the blackness calling to her again, trying to pull her away from the agony of this world.

She could hear Stephen shouting her name, sounding panicked, although it was like he was calling to her from a great distance away.

"_Jenny? JENNY!"_

She was vaguely aware that he was shaking her despite the fact she could barely feel it, although she couldn't seem pull herself back from the brink this time. . . . she didn't have the strength. Besides, why should she struggle anymore? Peace awaited her. She could feel it beckoning her.

Then, she suddenly heard another stronger voice calling her. A voice that wrenched her back into the painful world like it was desperate for her not to go.

"_JENNY! Look at me – open your eyes!"_

With difficulty, she did what the voice said and forced her heavy eyes open once again. Her vision was so blurry that she could only make out fuzzy images, although she didn't need her eyes to tell her who was crouching over her, cupping her face gently.

"Nick?" she whispered hoarsely.


	60. Fading

**Short one today I'm afraid! I'm super busy :/ Although can I just say that I'm so touched that this story is nearing 200 reviews! Wow people. Just . . . wow! And not that I'm hinting for reviews or anything (in fact I hate it when writers do that - if people like the story, they'll tell you - chill!) but I'm kinda curious who'll be reviewer No 200. Tehehe, but whoever it is, thanks to you all :)**

**Hope you enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter 60

Cutter fell to his knees next to Jenny's lifeless form, feeling his chest crushing as though someone was compressing on it. Stephen backed off immediately to give them space, his swollen face looking grim and his hands bloodied where he had worked on her. Jenny's face was chalk white with crimson streaks on her cheeks and congealed blood matted in her dark hair. Her saturated blouse had been ripped open to revealed a gaping bullet wound on the side of her stomach, the redness still seeping out of it and creeping over her pale skin, staining it scarlet as it went. Her eyes were closed and for a sickening second, Cutter could have sworn she wasn't breathing.

He reached forward and cupped her face, his panic forcing him to slip into auto mode. "Jenny!" he shouted, his hand trembling as he shook her. "Look at me – open your eyes!"

Her eyes fluttered open and relief flooded the pit of his stomach. Her chest shuddered as her shallow and laboured breaths came erratically, and her eyes were unfocused as they looked up at him. At first, Cutter thought that she wasn't aware that he was there.

But as her vision seemed to fix on him –

"Nick?" she said. She spoke his name in a whisper, making it sound like a plea.

His chest convulsing, he took her hand in his, feeling the warm slickness of blood on it as he held it tight. "I'm here," he said, trying to keep his tone calm and soothing. "Listen to me – you're going to feel tired, and you're going to want to go to sleep. But just try and stay awake okay? Just keep looking at me."

He watched as her eyelids closed again, squeezing tight through a flash if agony as if she was willing the pain to go away.

"Hey," he said firmly, shaking her head. Her eyes fluttered back open again, although they looked tired and heavy; as though it was costing her all of her strength to keep them open. "Stay with me."

"We need to get her out of here Cutter," Stephen spoke, startling him slightly – he'd quite forgotten his friend was there. "Or she's not going to make it - "

"It'd be impossible to get her out the main way," Cutter interrupted in a brittle voice. He had barely gotten through himself. The fighting was still going on – soldier against soldier, making it a practical no-man's-land up there. And of course, there were the creatures that we're still roaming free. Most of them would be attracted to them if they got even a faint whiff of Jenny's blood. No, if they were going to get her out, they'd have to find another way. "This is the basement – there must be some way up to ground level. Go and search the place."

As Stephen's footsteps died away, Cutter looked back down at Jenny. Her heaving chest was damp with sweat, although her skin was deathly cool to the touch. As gently as he could, he pulled her limp body onto his lap, cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

"Jenny," he said firmly, shaking her head again to force her eyes open again. "I know you're tired, but you've got to try and keep your eyes open."

"Nick . . ." she murmured, so faintly that he thought she was about to lapse into unconsciousness again. "I'm _so_ sorry . . ." she finished eventually, a tear tricking from under her eyelashes.

"Hush, you've got nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice catching in his throat as he tucked her sweat-damped hair behind her ear.

"Y–yes I have," she breathed, her shaking becoming more pronounced. "A-about Wilder . . . Mark . . ."

"Let's not talk about that," he said softly.

Her heavy eyes held his, as though willing him to listen. "It-it's always b-been you," she murmured, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each word she spoke. "You – you know t-that right?"

"Stop talking like that," he said again, although his heart had just throbbed painfully. She was talking like she was dying, and it was unsettling him. "We're going to get you out of here," he continued, trying to keep his voice as bright as possible. "And you're going to get better."

"I – I can't move - "

"That's because you're in shock," he explained. "It's normal. You're going to be fine. Trust me." He watched her chest shudder, wracked with pain. It was the sight of her in so much agony that pushed him to say something further, despite how stupid it sounded. "You do know that I love you, don't you?"

Her eyes flickered up to meet his as though she couldn't quite believe what he had said. Then slowly, she nodded, tears now streaming thick and fast from her eyes.

Her face was etched in so much pain that for a second, Cutter had to look away like a coward. It was too much. It was all too much. It was one thing that Claudia had been wiped from existence – the thought of her fading away from this world had given him more sleepless nights than he'd care to remember. But at least he hadn't had to watch her slipping away. And now Jenny lay in his arms, broken and on the brink of death. He couldn't lose her. Not again.

Collecting himself, he looked back down at her.

It took his sluggish brain a few seconds to register that something was different. Her face that had been contorted in suffering now looked peaceful, and the frown lines had disappeared from her brow, leaving her face smooth and untroubled.

Panic shot through him like a lightning bolt, and he jerked Jenny's head.

"Jenny? JENNY!" he bellowed. "Stay awake, do you hear?"

Her head lolled to the side, her forehead resting on his chest.

"JENNY!" he shook her again, now so alarmed that he was having difficulty thinking straight. "Jenny! Don't you _dare_!"


	61. How feelings change

**I am so **_**so**_** sorry about the silence on my end for this long! Talk about crickets :/ Bad fanfic writer! I've just been so busy, and then when I had a few hours spare, the dreaded writer block struck :( Not good.**

**Anyhoo I'm happy to say that I seem to have worked out how I want this story to end, and I assure you that this story **_**will**_** finish.**

**Much love and happy new year! x**

* * *

Chapter 61

Huffing and puffing through the pitch black basement, Stephen cursed under his breath as he stubbed his toe yet again on something hard and unidentified strewn on the dusty floor. Grimacing as a dull pain throbbed through his foot, he decided not to dwell on his aliment and continued on blindly, wishing that there was even a minuscule flicker of light to help him find his way back to Cutter and Jenny. He knew that he was going in the vaguely right direction, but the basement had so many twists and turns in the dark walkways that even his usually astute sense of direction couldn't tell him for certain if he was on the right path.

He pushed on, his mind still feeling frozen in shock, although his brain seemed to have switched onto auto-pilot. He and Jenny had certainly had their ups and downs, especially in the last few months. His feelings towards her had changed from indifference at their first meeting to a sort begrudged respect and admiration for her ability to get the job done. That had rapidly switched to loathing when he discovered her affair with Cutter. Nick had called his anger at the two of them 'jealousy', and thinking about it now that may have had some shade of truth to it. Jenny was not only beautiful and sharp-tongued, but she had an air of dominance around her that reminded him so much of Helen. Perhaps he may have been a little envious that - yet again - Nick had laid claim on one of the few women that Stephen actually found intriguing. Of course that whole thought process was ridiculous. From the moment Jenny had joined the team, Stephen could sense that Cutter wanted her, and he cared about their friendship too much to ever jeopardise it again. That aside, he was too surprised and incensed about Cutter's hypocritical actions to even consider that there may have been a hint of jealousy responsible for his over-reaction to their relationship.

Stephen's fury at Jenny had been streaked with a shade of sympathy when her fiancé was butchered in front of their very eyes, only to re-double again when it seemed that her allegiances had switched from the ARC to Wilder. But she had proven that her loyalties lay with them by double-crossing her dangerous and frankly psychopathic boyfriend. That must have taken guts. And she may well pay for that loyalty with her life.

Stephen shook himself mentally, forcing that unwanted thought from his head. Yes, it was fair to say that he and Jenny had never exactly seen eye-to-eye, but that had never taken away from the fact that he knew she was a very capable and brave woman, and an important member of the team. He didn't want her to die.

"Jenny!" a sudden panicked voice shouted from up ahead, making Stephen stop dead in his tracks. "Don't you _dare_!"

His wits returning to him with a jolt, Stephen started forward towards the shouts. Feeling his way blindly around a rickety corner, his eyes fell upon the long-since discarded torch that bathed a large strip of the ground in a harsh false light, reflecting against the deep red pool of blood. There, visibly silhouetted in the shadows, was a figure cradling an unmoving form in his arms.

"Cutter?" Stephen said tentatively as he stepped forward. As he did so, he accidently kicked the torch so that the beam of light spun around, fixing its glow directly onto Cutter.

Stephen's eyes travelled down slowly and reluctantly, knowing what he was going to see. Sure enough, Jenny's face was chalk-white and her eyes were shut; her head lolling back in the crook of Cutter's arm. More alarmingly, her torn blouse exposed her chest . . . and it wasn't moving.

She wasn't breathing.

"Is she dead?" Stephen asked quietly, the shock making his tone sound cold and unconcerned.

"I . . ." Cutter mumbled, his voice sounding distant and stunned as he stared down at Jenny's ghostly form.

"Cutter!" Stephen shouted, trying to snap him out of it as he kneeled down next to them. "Is she dead - ?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Cutter yelled back, clutching Jenny closer to him.

Either Cutter was in denial about it, or else he was too scared to confirm her death by checking her pulse. But whatever was going through his mind, he certainly wasn't in any fit state to be making decisions. When Stephen reached forward and heaved Jenny's limp body from Cutters lap into his arms, it was a testament to how out of it his friend was that he didn't protest.

"I've found the way out," Stephen said numbly as he stood up, holding Jenny tightly in his arms to counteract the slickness of her blood. Her head rested against his chest and her arms flopped down as dead weights. "It's not far," Stephen continued as he turned back the way he had come. "We have to get her in an ambulance."

He could sense that Cutter was following close behind him, but he quickened his pace, the sense of urgency to get Jenny out taking over him. If there was a chance – even a small chance – that she could be saved, he needed to get her to hospital as quickly as possible. That thought shone resonant in his mind and urged him on as he tried to remember the way to the exit and support Jenny's weight at the same time. But as he ducked under the support beam towards the ladder that lead up to ground level a horrible thought struck him. If they couldn't save her up there . . . if all this was for nothing . . . then he was taking Jenny back for her funeral.


	62. A truly double life

**I hope this chapter comes off as I intend! Much love x**

* * *

Chapter 62

_Jenny jolted awake suddenly, a yelp being wrenched from her lips as she wrestled with the tangled bed sheets to free herself. Breathing hard and shaking from head to toe, she flung her legs out of the side of the bed and staggered over to the wall, fingering frantically in the dark for the light switch. Blinding light blazed in her retinas harshly and she squinted, her eyes darting around her bedroom as her breathing slowly began to steady._

_There was nothing there. It had all been a dream. A horrible and deeply disturbing dream. _

_I suppose I should be used to them by now, she thought with a sigh as she made her way to her bathroom. It wasn't exactly the first time she'd dreamt about that bloody Gorgonopsid. In fact he'd been a frequent visitor in her dreams for a week. At least._

_With another deep sigh, she leant over the sink as she allowed the panic to dissipate slowly. She could feel that she was still trembling slightly, and her chest was damp with cold sweat. Was she ever going to get a decent night's sleep again? _

_Glancing up at herself in the mirror, she double-took immediately, her already fragile heart palpitating again. Her hair was a deep shade of auburn. She blinked in confusion at herself again, tilting her head to the side and drinking in her appearance with wide eyes. Then she shook herself mentally, almost chuckling. Her hair had always been auburn. And her name was Claudia – heaven knows why she had thought of herself by that other name . . . she didn't even know anyone called Jenny for goodness sake._

_A sudden pain shot through the side of her stomach and she doubled over with a groan, clutching at her side. What the hell was going on with her? Then as quickly as the ache appeared, it vanished. Breathing steadily, cautious in case the mysterious pain re-doubled upon movement, she straightened and slowly pulled her vest top up to view the tender area._

_There was nothing there. No marks, no swelling, nothing. _

"_God, you need a good night's sleep Claudia," she mumbled to herself as she let her top fall back over her pale stomach._

_She reached forward and turned the tap on, cupping her hands to catch the icy water and splash it over her face. The shock of the coldness seemed to make her slightly more alert, although she still felt that something was amiss. She remembered it was only yesterday that she'd confided in Nick that she hadn't been sleeping well, but the nightmares were only part of why she felt disconcerted. Even now, she couldn't seem to shake off a disturbing feeling that something was wrong._

_She glanced up at herself in the mirror again, expecting to see her dripping wet reflection starting back at her, but with the same jolt of panic that she had experienced twice before in as many minutes, she instead found herself staring into glistening shards of light twinkling where her image should have been._

_An anomaly. In her mirror._

_With a gasp of horror she staggered backwards until her back hit the shower cubicle, clapping her hands to her eyes. It's not real, she told herself, the same way she had when she had seen the it in the home office mirror merely hours ago. You're just tired, her mind insisted, it's just your brain playing tricks with you . . ._

_Forcing her breathing steady and convincing herself that she was imagining things, she let her hand fall away from her eyes and looked into the mirror again. She saw only her own tired and scared-looking reflection staring back at her._

* * *

_The Forest of Dean felt crowded around the anomaly, soldiers carrying equipment here and here, and the team milling around talking quietly in small groups. Claudia made a point of standing away from everyone, preferring her own company than standing within any proximity to Helen Cutter. Even thinking about her as Helen 'Cutter' made her stomach squirm with what she was fairly certain was jealousy. The fact that she shared a last name with Nick tied her to him in a way that she could do nothing about and acted as a constant reminder that the man she was rapidly beginning to fall for was already married. And not to some ordinary housewife – oh no, Helen Cutter was Nick's type through and through. Adventurous, daring, exciting – everything Claudia was not. They seemed made for each other. How could she herself compare? Any yet . . ._

_It was you he kissed, a perilous voice piped up in her head. It's you he stares at when he thinks you're not looking . . ._

_She glanced around and saw that Nick was walking up to her, wearing that same haunted smile he so often donned. Helen really hurt him, she thought as she returned his smile with an uneasy one of her own. She doesn't deserve him. Perhaps he knows that._

"_You alright?" he asked as he stopped in front of her, his voice seeped in the same comforting tone she had long since associated with him. He did have a way of putting her at ease, even in the most hopeless situations. And for some reason, what they were about to do seemed to fill her with more panic than she had felt even when they were trapped in the golf hotel by the prehistoric birds._

_Claudia nodded untruthfully. "What happens if it closes whilst you're on the other side?" she asked, trying to sound unconcerned, although she could tell by the knowing smile he gave her that it hadn't quite come across as she'd hoped._

"_We wait until it reopens," he answered simply._

_Oh yes Nick, because it's really going to be that straight forward isn't it? she almost said, but she held her tongue and nodded, not wanting to seem like the only one with concerns._

"_I think we should get going," Helen's obnoxious voice piped up as she shouldered her backpack, her cold eyes glancing at where Cutter and Claudia stood._

_Fighting the urge to utter an extremely descriptive profanity at the woman, Claudia looked back up at Nick. He gave her a small smile and turned to follow his wife towards the anomaly, but as he did so, a complete and utter feeling of dread came from nowhere and washed over her. This was wrong. They shouldn't be going through with this. They were messing with things they didn't understand._

"_Don't go," Claudia blurted out wildly, reaching forward and grabbing his arm to halt him in his tracks. He turned, looking pleasantly surprised by her outburst. "Stay," she pleaded, aware that people were staring at them but at the same time not caring. "This is a mistake," she insisted, trying to make him understand that something wasn't right. "I've got a really bad feeling about this."_

"_It's going to be fine," he said reassuringly, reaching forward to lightly touch her arm. "I'll see you soon," he added in a falsely cheery voice._

_No you won't, she thought hopelessly as she watched him turn and walk away from her. Someway . . . somehow . . . she knew that if he went through that anomaly with Helen, she'd never see him again._

"_Do you think I should make a speech?" Lester asked sarcastically as he walked up behind her, as usual hiding his agitation under a thick layer of snarky comments. "One small step for man . . . that kind of thing?"_

_But Claudia was barely listening. There was something she needed to do, and she couldn't help but think it might be her last chance to do it. "Maybe some other time," she replied, distracted as she marched forward._

_She caught Nick as he was about to walk through the glittering light and wheeled him round. It was complete and utter madness – dozens of people were looking, one of them her boss. But at that moment, it didn't seem to matter. She grabbed the collar of Nick's jacket and pulled him to her until his startled lips met hers. She held him there for a few seconds before she realised that he wasn't responding. Mortification setting in, she pulled back, but before she could catch her breath his lips crushed into hers again. He pulled her close, his hands travelling up her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss intensified, completely and utterly lost in him. His lips, his touch, his smell . . . it was like nothing or nobody else in the world existed._

_But it was over all too soon and the harshness of the world set in again as she pulled back, her eyes fluttering open. Nick was watching her, his expression as hard to read as ever, but she was certain that she could see a mixture of surprise and elation in the deep pools of those blue eyes. But far from being happy about the prospects that kiss had just opened, a deep and terrible sorrow set in as she turned to walk away, her hand slipping slowly from his._

* * *

_Four hours had passed since Cutter and Helen had lead a team through the anomaly, and Claudia was pacing up and down, her dread mounting with each passing minute. She glanced back at the rest of the team to see Abby and Connor talking in quiet, hushed voices and Stephen holding out the compass to check that the anomaly was not growing weaker, a concerned look on his handsome features. Lester was talking with a couple of the soldiers – issuing them with orders no doubt – and everyone else stood around, their postures stiff and apprehensive. She could practically hear all of their worried thoughts buzzing in her head, and it was becoming too much for her to bear._

_Nibbling as her bottom lip nervously, Claudia glanced around at the forest surrounding them, feeling the strange sensation that the trees were pressing in on her. Claustrophobia setting in, Claudia turned her heel and walked away into the distance, needing some space away from the tense atmosphere or else she was going to go stir crazy. Nick had been gone a long time. With no way to contact them, the rest of the team had no choice but to wait and wonder what was happening on the other side of the anomaly. _

_Her shoes crunched dully on the thick layer of leaves and sticks on the ground as she wandered on aimlessly, finding the peace and quiet of being alone calming. Had they found the future anomaly yet? Surely if they hadn't they'd be back by now . . ._

_All of a sudden, a surging pain struck her in the chest and she doubled over with a yelp. It was as though she'd been hit in the sternum with a sledge hammer. Disorientated, eyes watering with the pain, she staggered against a tree; her vision clouding as she clutched at her chest. She tried to cry out for help, but when she opened her mouth no words would come out. It was like someone had stolen her voice. Panting with the effort it was taking her to keep breathing, she caught a glimpse of her hand as she tried to keep herself upright against the bark, and she noticed with a sickening stab that her fingers looked as though they were fading. She gasped, raising her hand up in front of her face to study it further. The invisibleness appeared to be creeping steadily up her arm, making her flesh melt away into nothingness as she watched, powerless. Choking back the tears, she looked around frantically . . . the trees seemed to be closing in on her . . . suffocating her . . ._

_Another stabbing pain shot across her chest and she screamed. She didn't know what was happening to her, only that she'd never been in this much pain in her life. Her knees buckled and she felt herself falling into emptiness._

* * *

Jenny's body jolted violently as she was shocked for the second time by the paramedics in the back of the ambulance. Cutter looked away, tears stinging in his eyes and bile rising in his throat. The defibrillator hummed with electricity as the medic held out the paddles; his eyes busy studying the ECG screen for any sign of a heartbeat.

"Again!" he shouted once it was clear that shock had had no effect.

"Charging two hundred," the other paramedic replied, fiddling with the machine.

The paddles were placed on Jenny's chest again and she surged fiercely, the sight as horrifying to behold as it had been the past two times.

Cutter looked away again, squeezing his eyes shut against the painful hole in his chest. Guilt flooded into it, squirming inside him as though it was a living thing . . .

Then he heard the words that he'd never in a million years thought to hear, but that he would have given the world to hear all the same.

"There's a heartbeat."


End file.
